


Irrepressible

by PKA



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A lot of talking, Angst, Cannibalism, Fluff, General Pretentiousness, Graphic Descriptions of Dog Birth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Slow Build, Slow Burn, i said it was mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will tries to figure out his own desires after the fall. Hannibal is eager to help him in rather unorthodox ways. An exploration of touch, murder... and dogs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A translation of my first Hannibal fic ever. And of course I started with a fic in book length with approximately 50.000 words. Go big or go home.  
> I'm not entirely happy with this one, but I think that is to be expected from the first work in a new fandom. A lot of this was therapy for myself to deal with the finale and really try to grasp and understand the characters. So I might not be particularly subtle about thoughts and feelings and stuff. There is a lot of relationship exploration. Will and Hannibal also tend to talk rather openly with each other. But, you know. That's kind of the only way I see those two ever getting together. I'm still fixing things up while I translate, though, so there might be improvements. 
> 
> As usual, I love to talk about my writing, so feel free to comment, criticize and correct my English. Keep in mind that I'm translating this from my German version without a beta-reader. I'd love to get better at translating, but I'm not going to catch my most common mistakes on my own, so every help is appreciated. (Update: The wonderful [ fragile-teacup ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/) has been beta-ing this story from chapter 12 onward! Thank you so very much!)

They were falling.

Will was trapped between dream and reality, confined in the fleeting moment he sometimes experienced before falling asleep; the moment in which his muscles relaxed and he thought he was slipping through his bed. He waited for the twitch that would wake him up. It never came.

Hannibal's hand pressed Will's head closer onto blood-smeared, Italian cashmere, onto his chest, in which his heart pumped in a quick, strong rhythm. A protective gesture in the face of death. Will heard a relaxed sigh. There had been no attempt to struggle when Will had pulled them over the cliff. Hannibal had let Will make this choice.

Will was happy - and he wanted to die. Hannibal had agreed to his wish wordlessly.

Even though it felt much longer, they reached the dark surface of the sea in seconds, crashing into the ocean with an impact that squeezed all the air out of Will. The cold water surrounded him mercilessly, filling his lungs with ice. His hands still clawed at Hannibal, even when the rest of his body went numb. Will tried pulling him into the depths with him, into a shared, wet grave.

Then everything went black.

~ - ~

Will awoke in a state of pain. Every last ounce of power seemed to have been drained from his body. Even opening his eyes was difficult. More difficult still to get his brain to work.

Slowly, he became aware of his surroundings. It was too dark to see much, but Will knew instantly that he was in an unfamiliar room. A soft blanket covered his body; his head was propped onto a few cushions. He knew the face of the man sitting next to him.

»How do you feel, Will?« Hannibal asked. He sounded relieved.

It took Will a while to find his voice. »In pain... and thirsty.« It came out hoarsely. His cheek began to throb.

Hannibal helped him drink. As life came back to him, Will's awareness increased, although the world was still a little blurry. The room seemed to rock in soft motions. Perhaps Hannibal had given him a dose of drugs already. Perhaps they were still at sea. Perhaps he was dead.

He hoped for the latter.

Together they had killed the Great Red Dragon. He thought of it only as factual now, but in the moment itself, it had been pure, bestial satisfaction. He had enjoyed ramming a knife into Dolarhyde's stomach, had loved the sticky, warm blood on his hands, the look of it. Black in the moonlight. Never had he felt so alive. Never had the urge to kill himself been so overwhelming.

Will felt sick.

»Why are we still alive?« he asked, his voice toneless.

»God seems to have some plans for us,« Hannibal said.

Will shook his head and regretted it instantly when pain made him aware of his injuries. »There can't be such a thing as God. I'm convinced now. If he did exist he wouldn't have allowed us both to survive.«

»Will,« Hannibal said, slowly and determined, as if talking to a child. »You need to promise me not to try and kill yourself again.«

Will looked at him as if for the first time. Hannibal's dark eyes lay deep in shadows. He looked sick and stressed and full of worry.

Will's shoulder felt as if it was bathed in flames. He laid his head back onto the cushions with a pained gasp. »I can't promise you that.«

Hannibal's expression did not change. »I would prefer not to drug you more than I need to. I could use your help once you are able to stand up.«

»I have no intention of killing myself right now, nor do I have the power to do so. Is that enough?«

Hannibal's hand reached out and caressed his uninjured cheek. Will was familiar with that kind of touch. His brain associated it with something negative, instantly, reminded him of the moment before Hannibal had stabbed him, before he had left him with an almost fatal wound. He had never fought against Hannibal's touches and he did not start now. He always felt uncertain about how exactly to react to them.

But after spending three years without Hannibal's touches, there was something else too - a new, different feeling; a sort of gentle contentment, as if the warmth of Hannibal's hand could spread into his veins and fuel him with new, life-giving energy.

An approach-avoidance conflict. It brought their embrace at the bluff to Will's mind, the embrace he had initiated himself. The first time he had ever touched Hannibal by his own free will. The moment had demanded it - all those dazzling feelings had driven him into Hannibal's arms. A distant memory came back to him, the memory of an urge he had felt but not acted upon. For a short moment, he had wanted to tear down the last remaining physical wall between them, lock their fates with one deadly kiss.

He could not have done it without ruining his own plan.

And Hannibal had ruined it anyway.

»Yes,« Hannibal answered finally.

Will still felt his hand on his cheek. He thought about breaking the contact by turning his head, but decided it was not worth the pain it would cause.

His thoughts had strayed. For an instant, he had to consider what the question that Hannibal was answering had been.

»Then give me something for the pain and let me sleep a while longer.«


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to tell you why this story is called "Irrepressible"! Well, there is this song called "Two Men in Love", which really accompanied me while writing this fic. And what's the band's name? The Irrepressibles! Give it a listen, it's quite fitting for the whole Murder Husband relationship.

It did not take long for Will to figure out that the rocking of his surroundings was indeed caused by waves. Hannibal explained to him that they were on a boat he had hidden away for »a potential situation such as this one«.

Will did not ask how he had managed to drag him out of the water and onto the boat. He also did not ask how Hannibal had treated his own wounds. Something inside of him was resigned. Everything had happened exactly as Hannibal had wanted it to happen. Obviously.

»Where are we even going?« Will asked once he found he cared.

»As far away as possible,« was the simple answer he got.

Once they reached the open sea, Hannibal directed them to Europe. There was no need for further preparations. Hannibal had paid someone to tend to the ship during his imprisonment – it was full of water and canned food that could easily last them for weeks. Will wondered if Hannibal avoided landing because it would give Will an opportunity to flee.

A few days passed before Will was able to stand up. The fall had left him powerless and the medication Hannibal gave him against the pain and to prevent infection made him sleepy most of the time. Will had made this journey before, but Hannibal had not. He was not an expert when it came to sailing. Will was not, either. Hannibal's vessel was larger than Nola, more luxurious and also harder to navigate. Once Will could stand again on wobbly legs, he forced himself to take over Hannibal's job of steering while Hannibal set out to clean their small space and cook what he could make out of the cans.

Yes, he had sailed to Europe before. He had needed the time alone. To think. To sort through his feelings.

There was no opportunity for that now. Hannibal was with him. They did not talk much in those early days after the fall. Will did not know if Hannibal was as exhausted as he was himself, or if he sensed that Will was not able to talk about it. But his presence hindered the natural development of Will's thoughts; caged them, centered them. He could not show any form of weakness in front of the other man, waste no thoughts on pointless things.

He was glad for his presence, in some ways. He needed the distraction. He was not yet ready to think about the future, but occupied himself with accomplishing that basic requirement for whatever came next – they needed to reach a place where no one could find them.

The salty breeze of the ocean was not as pleasant as he remembered. It stung his fresh cheek wound.

~ - ~

The days grew longer and Will's strength came back slowly to him. With it came thoughts that he could no longer block off.

He wondered how Hannibal was dealing with the situation. They had not talked about it since the night of Will's awakening, but Will was certain that Hannibal was prepared for another suicide attempt. Perhaps he even waited for it. This time, surely, he would try to stop him.

One night, as Hannibal replaced his bandages, they started exchanging more than just a few words of polite conversation.

»You should think about resuming your therapy,« Hannibal suggested. It sounded as if he had given that some thought. It was neither an open demand nor coercion, but the almost familiar persuasion for Will to want it himself.

»With you? Why?« Will asked.

There were more than enough reasons to do it. Even more to say no. Hannibal's form of therapy was manipulation into a direction he thought was best.

»You tried to kill us, Will,« Hannibal said gently.

»You didn't seem to mind.«

Hannibal stopped his work on the new bandage that covered Will's collarbone and searched his face for eye contact.

»I let you make that choice. You gave me... what I wanted most in the world. It was fair, letting you decide what to do next.«

»Better to go out with a bang, hm?« Will asked, irony tinging his voice.

Hannibal's answer was merely the suggestion of a smile. »But we survived.«

»Killing us both was supposed to be my last gift to humankind.«

»A brave act indeed. I would like to think that Jack believes you succeeded.«

Will laughed. It hurt. »Yeah. I'm probably being praised as a hero for killing both the Tooth Fairy and Hannibal the Cannibal.«

He thought about what he had left behind. All the things he would never be able to return to. »At least Molly won't have to live with the knowledge of who exactly her husband turned out to be.«

»Killing the Dragon was something a lot of people would take pride in,« Hannibal said.

It was not a feeling of pride that had made Will attempt to kill them both. It was a darker, familiar feeling, only a lot purer than what he had felt before. A feeling which he had been aware of ever since he had shot Garret Jacob Hobbs in the chest several times. A feeling that had become so much clearer once he had killed Randall Tier with his bare hands.

»Pride, yes. But not enjoyment.«

»Do you fear to crave killing again?« Hannibal asked as if he did not know the answer already.

»I know that I will. I'll crave doing it with you. Because it was... Because it felt good.«

»And so you killed yourself to spare the world the monster you would inevitably become,« Hannibal mused, a hint of pride in his voice. »And me,« he added after a few seconds.

»Should I have done it alone?«

»No.«

Familiar words from Bedelia leapt into his mind. Can't live with him, can't live without him. Not living at all had seemed to be the only solution to that problem.

»I thought you said suicide was the enemy.«

»The choice you made was not my preferred one. However, dying with you in my arms would have been the finest death I could wish for,« Hannibal commented dispassionately, as if talking about the weather.

Will remembered the hand at the back of his head. The hand that had pulled him closer, protecting. »Figures that you would romanticize it.«

Hannibal, who had resumed taping the new bandage, traced a finger over Will's bare shoulder. It could have been accidental, but it was not.

»I want you to choose life over death,« Hannibal declared simply.

»That would mean a life with you. Only ever with you,« Will said.

The prospect of a life like that did not fill him with mirth. Will did not know how long he would manage to survive it. Hannibal's presence had turned his whole life upside down and had covered the remains with blood and violence. There was no happiness in Hannibal's proximity. But Will had learned that staying away from him resulted in pain and an unfulfillable void. A predicament he could not escape, no matter which way he turned.

»When Siegfried bathed in the blood of a dragon, he became invincible - except for a tiny patch on his back. Something prevented us from dying, Will. Fate, coincidence, God – whatever you want to call it. It would be foolish to waste such a gift before figuring out what this new life has to offer.«

Will closed his eyes. He had tried. He had tried to leave this world, once he had known there was only madness waiting for him. And now he would have to come up with another plan.

»If we are to be courageous dragonslayers... where are our fair maidens? Our treasures made of gold?«

Will could tell that Hannibal was amused without looking at him. »In some legends and myths, the treasures are cursed and best ignored, Will.«


	3. Chapter 3

Will spent the next few days as far away from Hannibal as he could, waiting to reach dry land. This boat seemed like a prison, as if he and Hannibal had switched roles.

Hannibal was in cheerful spirits. He didn't mind Will's desire for solitude and yet Will could hear the spring in his steps throughout the interior of the boat, happy about the reacquired freedom. The food ingredients and the clothes available to him might not hold to his usual standards, but Hannibal was happier here than in the BSHCI. The paleness of his skin slowly vanished, giving way to a deeper, more natural tone.

Their conversations were restricted to the unavoidable moments when they met during meals, Hannibal always uttering a »Hello, Will« and Will always trying to signal that he was not interested in talking.

It was not long after Will avoided even that contact, grabbing something to eat only when he was sure Hannibal was not around, that he heard a knocking on his cabin door one evening.

Will had been glad about their cabin situation: enough space on the boat for them to sleep in separate rooms. It was difficult enough to rest as it was.

»Yes,« Will said after a while, waking up from a shallow doze. He sounded calmer than he felt. When Hannibal entered, closing the door behind him, his mood did not improve.

»Just wanted to make sure your wounds were alright,« he explained, coming closer. He hesitated a second before sitting down beside Will on his small bed.

»Do you mean my outer or my inner wounds?« Will asked, voice scratchy from disuse.

»Both. You have avoided me for quite some time now.«

Hannibal tried to reach out for him again, but Will recoiled. His tiredness made him act on instinct. Through the darkness of the room, just a hint of pain was visible in Hannibal's eyes.

»Are you so afraid of my touch, Will?« he asked, the pretense for his visit entirely forgotten.

»You taught me to feel pain from your touch. Emotionally and physically.«

»Another thing we could work on in therapy if you allowed it. Erasing those associations.«

»What for? There's a reason I'm feeling that way.«

Hannibal considered this before he spoke again. »You have issues trusting me, Will. And this is an effective way to annihilate them.«

Unspoken things filled the room. They had not talked about the possibility that perhaps Will did not even want to stay. He had no misconception about not being allowed to go. Hannibal would not let him. What Hannibal craved was reassurance that he would not need to force Will to come with him. He could not provide it, not yet.

»Unorthodox therapy, even for you, Dr. Lecter,« Will said with a hearty yawn. He turned his head away from Hannibal – a sign, both of the small amount of trust he still carried and of the end of this conversation. A tear caused by the yawn rolled down his cheek. This time he did not flinch when Hannibal touched him to catch it with his thumb.

He had averted his gaze from Hannibal, but Will still knew what he did with the tear.

»How do I taste?« Will asked. He tried to persuade himself that it was because of his own tiredness that he did not find this situation as strange as he should.

Hannibal stood up and seemed to think about it for a while. »Salty. Like the ocean.«

~ - ~

»You have to tell me to stop if you start feeling uncomfortable.«

Will did not remember why he had consented to this. Their journey was slowly coming to an end. They would reach land again in a few days, thank God. Hannibal had told him they would stay near a small city on the coast of Germany for some time. He had a house there – insurance, a place no one could trace them back to. A place to lay low for a while.

But all that seemed to be far into the future right now. They had tried to make some room in the small living room area of the boat and now they were standing close together, Will with a towel between his hands.

Hannibal had insisted to at least help Will's ill-treated shoulder. It hurt more than ever now from Dolarhyde's knife and the mistreatment it had endured over the past couple of years. Will had always ignored his prescribed physiotherapy. It showed now.

»Do you understand, Will? You don't have to justify it; just tell me to stop when you need me to.«

He was not talking about the pain. Hannibal was sure Will was capable of dealing with that. He had grown accustomed to pain. What Hannibal was talking about was their physical closeness.

Will tried to retreat but it was more difficult than usual. Focusing on his breathing did not help, either. He felt Hannibal's heavy gaze upon him, his observations and the analyzing of Will's reactions.

A very light touch. Nothing more than the tips of fingers on Will's clothed shoulder. A touch that was supposed to steady. Hannibal's other hand held Will's left one, pulling it slowly outward until Will's shoulder started to hurt, then manipulating his arm back and forth, stretching it further. He was saying something in a soft voice; an explanation of what he did and in which ways it would help Will's rehabilitation. Will did not listen. He only felt Hannibal's hand on his own and could not help but think back to the night he had slain Randall Tier; to the night Hannibal had taken care of his injuries.

It did not take long before Will had to tell him to stop.

Hannibal's hands stayed on him for just a second longer before he let go of him. The hand holding his own moved away slowly, caressing before disappearing as if cherishing every milisecond. Will could prevent neither the shiver that went down his spine nor the goosebumps building on his arms.

Hannibal sounded pleased when he said, »Piloerection. Do you feel fear or pleasure, Will?«

Will opened his eyes and looked at Hannibal. He did not answer his question.

»What did you feel when you touched me, back at the cliff?« Hannibal continued.

Will thought back to the scene, to the Dragon's slowly cooling body and Hannibal's warm one, his own hands on it. He thought of the hitch in Hannibal's breath when he had reached out for him.

»A sense of connection,« he said.

»And how did that feel?«

Hesitation.

»Good,« Will answered truthfully.

The semblance of a smile showed on Hannibal's face when he said, »So touching me feels good to you.«

»It did, in that particular moment,« Will specified, reluctant to give Hannibal this victory - any victory.

»It's the only time you ever decided to touch me,« Hannibal reminded him.

»I am aware of that.«

Another short pause. They were still standing way too close.

»Why do you think this is so important to me?« Hannibal asked.

»Touch?«

Hannibal nodded.

Will thought about it for a moment. Something Bedelia had told him came to mind and he quoted her. »The touch of others makes us who we are. It builds trust.«

Hannibal smiled openly now. »Did Dr. Du Maurier say that to you?«

Will was startled for a second before he realized he had yet again underestimated Hannibal's sense of smell. Will was sure that Hannibal was very familiar with Bedelia's scent.

»It's true, isn't it?« Will asked instead. »You want me to trust you again?«

»You don't trust me to touch you because you think the result will be painful. When you are the one to touch it gives you the same power over me,« Hannibal speculated. »That is why you feel good about it. Being touched is the same to you as being manipulated, being vulnerable.«

»I had no intention of hurting you on the cliff,« Will admitted. »Not until I decided to kill us.«

»No, you were euphoric,« Hannibal said. »The battle with the Dragon crushed your barriers and now you are trying to build them up again in order to stay sane.«

Will laughed at that. »So... you want me to become insane?«

»I think I told you once that you must allow yourself to be intimate with your instincts. You spent enough time building forts, Will. You must accept your becoming. I warned you that madness is waiting. You chose to ignore my warnings,« Hannibal chided. After a while he added, »It must be a cruel thing. To crave proximity, but to be so afraid of touch.«

Hannibal waited for an answer. He pushed for a reaction, any reaction. Confirmation or denial. Will gave him neither.


	4. Chapter 4

»I could make you a special kind of tea once we're on firm ground again.«

Will looked up from his book. Hannibal had come up from the kitchen with a few snacks before dinner. He placed them next to Will and went below deck again to emerge a few seconds later with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He poured them both a reasonable amount and handed Will his glass before sitting down next to him.

The sea beneath them was calm as usual, the sun shining bright and warm. Their voyage had been smooth the whole time; no problems at all. Will guessed that the storm in his head was enough to keep them both occupied.

Will had not been as pedantic in his avoidance of Hannibal since he had let him perform his little experiment. He was actually quite glad to see him – if only for the refreshments he brought with him.

»Tea?« Will asked.

»Something I brewed for Abigail, to lessen her bad dreams; to supplement her traumatic memories with positive associations. I imagine it would work quite well on you, too.«

Will stayed silent for a while. It had been the second time in the few weeks of their reacquaintance that Hannibal had said Abigail's name. It scratched at Will's skin, filling him instantly with feelings of guilt.

»You made Abigail do drugs?«

He could not keep the slight shock out of his voice. It was almost funny. Hannibal had done so many dreadful things—had killed people and displayed them in unspeakable ways—and yet the statement that he had persuaded Abigail to try drugs shocked Will more than all the corpses. Will felt the sudden urge to know more about Hannibal and Abigail's time together. He pushed that wish far away. Someday, maybe. When it did not hurt quite as much anymore.

»Psilocybin, to be precise, yes. With my supervision, of course.«

»No, thank you,« Will decided after taking a huge gulp of his wine. »I'd like to have my wits about me in your presence.«

~ - ~

They reached the German mainland two days later.

Will thought they would head further inland to one of the bigger cities, but they stayed near the ocean. It was a small town by the sea, populated mostly by old people who didn't seem to care about the newcomers. Hannibal's house was twenty minutes outside town, surrounded by woods and close to a small lake. Perfect for fishing.

Realization hit Will when they first took a look around. Their new home was nothing compared to Hannibal's old house in Baltimore or the flat he had inhabited in Florence. Not nearly as fancy, except for the kitchen. The furnishings were almost reserved; not nearly as pompous, not nearly as dark, not nearly as Hannibal. No antlers, no horns, no stags. Instead Will spotted some dogs in the few paintings and artifacts around the house.

The dead city made it easy for Will to avoid people, but deprived Hannibal of his operas and art galleries. This had likely not been a truly selfless act, because the loneliness of their new quarters would assist Hannibal in his wish to remain the only influence on Will. Even so, Will had to acknowledge that it would benefit his current state of mind to have no other people around.

Hannibal had even thought about fishing equipment. Expensive rods and fine materials to make his own hooks again. With a lake nearby and the open sea only a few miles away, Will had plenty of room to fish and more than enough space to retreat if he needed it.

»What do you think?« Hannibal asked after they had finished their first tour of the house.

 _He made a place for us._ Will caught sight of Abigail's silhouette against each wall. He could not help but smile sadly, feeling a fragile affection for the other man; mourning a life lost, a life that could have been.

»It's perfect.«

~ - ~

The days passed slowly as they settled into their new home. Will was busy fishing, glad of finally having some time for himself after weeks of being so very close to Hannibal, away from his influence and only in his own head. Not that his thoughts were necessarily his own all the time. He was reminded of his inseparable connection to Hannibal every time he saw the Stag grazing peacefully by the lakeside while fishing. The longer the days spent away from Hannibal became, the more Will felt like one of the creatures he tried to lure out of the water. The longer he stayed away from their new, shared home, the stronger he felt the pull to return.

Hannibal, on the other hand, spend his free time as he usually did. He drew—and Will ignored the fact that most of his pictures depicted Will himself; composed—on a piano, not on a harpsichord because he had yet to find one that met all of his requirements; and cooked—without human ingredients.

Will wondered if Hannibal felt the urge to kill after spending three years in prison. They had slain the Great Red Dragon together, but Hannibal had not been able to take a trophy with him. If he wanted to kill again, he did not mention it. He was probably waiting for Will to adjust to their new life before proposing to take the next step.

For the moment, Will did not want to think about it, giving himself the opportunity to simply be for a while. The solitude and peace of their new home calmed his mind, made his suicidal thoughts ebb away slowly.

Hannibal soon formed a habit of driving to Hamburg once a week to acquire the exotic foods he could not get in their small antiquated town and to clothe himself again in costly suits. He had asked Will to come with him a few times, but Will feared the sudden exposure to so many people and so many emotions. He had to move forward eventually, but right now, he was content with the way thing were. Hannibal's quiet presence evoked no empathy in Will. They were linked in such a way that he already knew what Hannibal was feeling. He felt the same serene happiness as Will. They both knew it was all too frail.


	5. Chapter 5

It took a while, but Will finally succumbed to Hannibal's request to resume their conversations. They _talked_ regularly now, but Hannibal was much less invading than ever before. They both lived their lives rather individually – Will went fishing and Hannibal went out to enjoy the wonders of the world of free men. Hannibal had helped him with the physiotherapy only until Will got the hang of it himself. Since then he only took a look at him infrequently, commenting on his progress and adjusting his schedule. On some days they only saw each other for dinner. Hannibal made sure never to miss that. 

Will liked this unconfined way, the balance between distance and closeness between the two of them. He knew Hannibal wished for more. He also knew that it would not be like this forever, that there were things they would have to speak about eventually. So he agreed to therapy – for now. Once a week. 7.30 pm. On the same day and at the same time they had always met.

They did not talk about it, but Will knew that the study on the first floor that they used for their sessions had been meant for Abigail. He could feel her presence stronger in here than anywhere else in the house. It was calming.

It had become Hannibal's study and was, next to Hannibal's bedroom, the only room of the house that reminded Will of Hannibal's furnishings in Baltimore. When Hannibal was at home and not busy cooking in the kitchen or playing the piano in the living room he could usually be found in here, drawing with the soft tunes of classical music in the background.

It felt nostalgic. The room was smaller, more private. The second floor filled with books was missing, but the atmosphere was still the same. Hannibal had passed on the couch they had never used and instead, there were only two comfortable armchairs facing each other.

No heavy, red-and-white curtains hang from the windows, but Hannibal still managed to dim the otherwise light-flooded room, needed for his drawing, for their conversations. A well-known mood was constructed by the heavy shadows and the lack of light. It was easier to talk in this relative darkness in which there were no witnesses. Only him and Hannibal. 

»It's nice not having to drive more than an hour for this,« Will said at their first regular meeting. He was slightly nervous when he took his seat, suppressing the urge to roam the room. He would have to grow accustomed to this again.

»No responsibilities to return to, either,« Hannibal said after he took place opposite him. 

Will had to think about his dogs. He missed the yapping and yelping and the constant movement in the house.

He tried not to think about them for too long. »Imagine that. I could actually drink more than half a finger of whiskey.«

A half-smile crept onto Hannibal's face. The memories were almost nice. Hours spent in Hannibal's office after their sessions, enjoying just a little bit of Hannibal's expensive whiskey repertoire. Will remembered brittle moments in which Hannibal had told him about his sister. Tiny fragments of his past revealed, to him. To make Will see him, understand him. 

Hannibal tried to create intimacy. He tried to remind Will of the things they had once shared with each other. He wanted to share more, despite what happened. 

»Where do we begin, Dr. Lecter?« Will asked and leaned back in his chair. 

Hannibal crossed his legs. He usually wore more comfortable clothes when he stayed in the house, getting his suits out only if he intended to run some errands. But he had dressed up for this occasion, to add some more nostalgia to the scene and keep up the façade of professionalism. A black and red checkered suit. A white shirt and pocket square. A dark tie with a paisley pattern. It reminded Will of something. 

»Where we left off,« Hannibal answered and only then did Will recall. Hannibal's outfit reminded him of their last dinner in Baltimore, the last moment they had spent together before everything had fallen apart. The last moment in which he could have made a different decision. Or any decision at all. So long ago now, almost four years.

»We haven't yet talked about how you accommodated yourself here,« Hannibal continued.

Will thought about it for a moment. This situation felt so familiar. Big, important words, spoken in calm, low voices. It was intimate.

»I feel good. It's... quiet here,« Will admitted.

»Do you feel a need for quietness right now?«

»Not _right_ now,« Will said with a smile. »It's an overall feeling. We are secluded. No other people nearby. No need to be sociable.«

»And I don't disturb your quietness? I don't require you to be sociable?«

Will shook his head gently. »You feel like... an extended arm.«

»A part of you.«

»Yes. I don't have to be sociable with you. I can be myself with you. Because you have seen me.«

Hannibal took that in for a moment, clearly enjoying himself. Then he looked at the wedding band Will still wore. 

»What was it like to be married, Will?«

They had not talked about Molly since Will first awakened. It gave him a queasy feeling. Guilt, for abandoning her.

»I am still married,« he insisted.

»Do you still want to be married?«

Will did not answer that. »It was... nice. Safe. I had to be presentable. I held back and I tried to forget.«

»Did it work?«

»Until Jack showed up.«

»Would it still work, if Jack wouldn't have come to your door?« 

»I don't know. I would have made it work,« Will said evasively.

»I showed you your true potential and you shoved it away again, suffering in order to stay on the moral high ground. Tell me. How does knowing that you can be truly yourself around me make you feel like?«

»Afraid,« Will answered instantly.

»Why?«

»Because... I didn't explore this particular part of myself before. I am afraid to become like you. Afraid that you will _make me_ want to become like you.«

Hannibal looked taken aback. »I won't _force_ you to kill again, Will. You might not realize that I value your life much higher than your becoming.«

Will raised an eyebrow. »You mean since you sent Randall Tier to kill me.«

»Yes.«

Will raised his other eyebrow, too. »Since... you tried to open my head and eat my brain.«

»I would have regretted it enormously.« He sounded honest.

Will answered with sarcasm, knowing that any other approach would make him mad. »Really reassuring, Dr. Lecter.«

Hannibal leaned forward and took Will's hands in his own. It startled Will, even though Hannibal had telegraphed his movements and given him enough time to react and easily withdraw. He forgot to breathe for a second, but he did not flinch, let Hannibal touch him. Warm, dry skin above his own. 

»We shared this... beautiful, overwhelming moment. So overwhelming, in fact, that you tried to kill us both. I would very much like to survive. With you. If you don't want to share this pleasure with me ever again I will accept it. I can relive this moment in all its brilliance in my memory palace whenever I want. But you _have_ to learn to live with your awoken instincts, Will.«

Hannibal's thumbs ran little circles in his palms. It was supposed to be soothing, as if Hannibal knew what his words did to Will. Panic neared and stretched its ugly hands out for Will.

»I gave you this place to calm down, to adjust to your new life. We have been reborn and it will take time for the wounds to heal. Yours and mine,« Hannibal explained. »But this is not a castle and you are not a princess locked away in a tower. I will, in fact, force you into society again, should the need arise. Not to cause you pain, but to make sure you can be comfortable the way you are. Not to kill with you, if you disallow it, but to teach you how to deal with the urges that will overcome you. To guide you through it.«

»You're not really an expert at suppressing your urges,« Will assessed.

»I didn't kill anybody in this country. Yet.«

»But you want to.« 

»I want to because I enjoy it. Not because I need to. Just like you, given the opportunity. You delight in killing just as much as I do. Dear Francis made that very clear. It's also apparent that your psyche can not handle that yet. You are still fighting against it, like your body may fight a disease, while I have accepted my desires long ago. You don't want to kill and you don't want me to kill. So I'll refrain for now.«

Will's throat felt dry. »And why would you do something like that when you so obviously wish for me to kill again, to enjoy this thing with you?«

»Because I care for your well-being, Will. I'd much rather have this life than lose you to the sea.«

Will looked down to their linked hands. He knew that this serenity was Hannibal's gift to him – that Hannibal hoped that it would help Will find his new place in the world. But it was impossible to stay in this phase of happiness, for it was a damn slippery thing. Hannibal would wait as patiently as ever, until Will was ready to take the next step. 

And that did not only apply to the killing, Will knew. He could see the desire for something else in Hannibal's eyes, a desire that had been suppressed for far longer.

 _But do you ache for him?_ Bedelia's voice was clear as day in his head. He still had no answer to that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on my [ tumblr ](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

An impatient knock at his door.

»Will, I need to talk to you about something.«

Straight to the point. Unusual.

Will stood up, put the book he was reading aside and crossed to the door, hesitating just a second before opening it.

Something had happened. Hannibal looked agitated in a way Will had never seen before.

»What's wrong?«

Without speaking, Hannibal passed him his tablet and Will took it, tension building in his gut. He was not ready to leave their shelter just yet, not now that he had finally found a semblance of peace.

Tattlecrime.com. Will shot an annoyed glance at Hannibal before he began reading.

He skimmed over the article. Something about the mansion of the Lecter family and how Freddie had visited the place, hoping to find clues as to where they were now. _It could have been so romantic,_ she had written, _a second honeymoon for the newly reunited Murder Husbands in such a familiar, secluded place._ She went on and on about it. How it looked, the atmosphere, what sort of forest surrounded the place. And there was a picture that stood out in brutal contrast to the sentimental rest. Freddie had found Chiyoh's tenant. He looked different than Will remembered – the last few years had changed him.

 _A gruesome find,_ Freddie had written. _The corpse I found in the wine cellar of the castle had been hanging there for years – but which of the Murder Husbands left this as a sign of his love for the other?_

»You said Chiyoh had killed him.«

»She did. I merely displayed him to repay Chiyoh's debt.«

Hannibal took back the tablet and looked at the picture, zooming in to take a closer look.

»Are the snails still there?« Will asked, suddenly remembering.

»Snails?«

»Yeah, there were snails on his body when I-,« Will began and reached out for the tablet once again.

Their fingers touched, pulling a surprised sound out of both of them, the tablet almost falling to the floor. Will had to look up then, had to meet Hannibal's eyes. Nothing could have prepared him for the love and hunger he saw there. All of Hannibal's usual composure was gone, replaced by an expression of rapture. A part of Will was excited to know that he was able to have such an effect on anyone, let alone Hannibal Lecter. He could see Hannibal's desire to touch him, to hug him, to kiss him. More clearly than ever.

Hannibal did none of these things. He was still letting Will decide how to proceed. But Will could not do anything. It was a stalemate that they were both unable to break free of.

Hannibal looked as if he wanted to say a thousand things, but he was silent.

Will smiled and looked away, focusing on the picture of Chiyoh's tenant.

»Snails are gone.«

~ - ~

On his return from a fishing trip one evening soon afterwards, Will heard classical music drifting through the house. That was nothing special per se, but normally Hannibal would retreat into the study to listen to his records. Will brought his fish into the kitchen, washed his hands and proceeded to search for his housemate. He found Hannibal in the living room, sitting in his armchair – eyes closed, foot bobbing in time with the music.

»I miss dancing,« he said.

»You should go out more often.«

»I don't have a dancing partner.« Hannibal opened his eyes and looked at him. Poignantly.

Will shook his head. »Don't look at me like that. I can't dance.«

»Can't or won't?«

Will crossed his arms in front of his chest. »Both.«

Hannibal seemed surprised. »Not even at your wedding, with your wife?«

Will did not like it when Hannibal talked about Molly. »No. I never danced.«

»Why not?«

»I didn't even go to prom, Hannibal. Dancing requires sociability.«

»Not necessarily,« Hannibal objected.

»Contact, then. It's... intimate.« Will thought he saw a flash of excitement in Hannibal's eyes. Then he understood. »But that's what you want, isn't it? As part of my 'therapy'?«

»It would prove helpful to you, if you were to enjoy the activity. I could teach you how to dance. And you wouldn't have to do it in public. Just here. With me.« An attempt at persuasion.

Will closed his eyes for a moment. »You totally planned this, right? I always wondered why the living room was so damn big anyway.«

Hannibal did not answer, but his eyes betrayed him.

Will sighed. »Fine. But only once. And only as a part of therapy.«

Hannibal did not miss a beat. He stood up and went to him, taking Will's hands in his own.

»Now? But I just came back from... I must reek of fish.« Will made a halfhearted attempt at liberating his hands.

»No, you don't,« Hannibal said simply, before raising Will's hands to his nose to sniff them audibly to prove his point. »Well, maybe a little. Still better than the aftershave you used to wear.«

They waited for the next tune. Hannibal led and gave him instructions. Posture, the positioning of his feet, the pace. It was strangely easy to read Hannibal's body language while dancing, once Will had succeeded in taking his eyes off their feet. Will could anticipate Hannibal's steps with ease, and after a while they moved without Hannibal's verbal guidance. It was fluid and natural and felt good. Hannibal's warm hand in his, the other on his back, Will's left hand somewhere between Hannibal's shoulder and his elbow, their closeness, Hannibal's smile. It was conversant but not too intimate. It made Will nervous but it was still bearable.

»Why do you enjoy touching me?« Will asked after a while.

»Touch builds trust, among other things. I want you to trust me the way I trust you.«

»What makes you so sure you can trust me?«

»I am not. I allowed myself to be locked away in anticipation that you would come back to me, eventually. I put my life and my death in your hands, because you gave me more than I could have wished for. My life-«

»Don't say anything cheesy, Hannibal,« Will warned.

Hannibal's smile widened and he continued relentlessly, »My life would be meaningless without you in it, Will.«

» _Stop it_ ,« Will growled. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. It was difficult to ignore Hannibal's feelings, even when he was more subtle about it. Right now it seemed nearly impossible.

Hannibal said no more, but his smile remained.

They had lost the beat because of their conversation, and Will had stepped on Hannibal's foot a couple of times, but he had not complained about it.

When the tune ended, they moved apart.

»Thank you,« Hannibal said. He looked satisfied. »You are talented.«

»I'm talented at reading people.«

»That, too.«

»At least now I can say that I have indeed danced with the devil in the pale moonlight.«

If Hannibal understood the reference, he did not comment on it.

~ - ~

Hannibal kept his promise in good time and forced Will to go on a detour to town with him.

It was a rainy morning, the streets almost empty. A few storm-proofed retirees braved the wetness to run their daily errands and talk to familiar faces on their way. An obvious attempt at fighting the lethargy and boredom that a lonely person of that age faced in a city like this. Will tried to prevent further impressions.

Hannibal was in good spirits despite the bad weather. It had not been hard for him to convince Will to join him. A city visit had been inevitable – Will needed new glasses and would have to have his eyes tested anew. He did not usually need his glasses when he was in the house – but if Hannibal intended to make him go outside more often, he would need the symbolic protection.

A haircut was needed, too. His hair had grown too long over the past few months, and Hannibal had found a reputable salon a while since.

It was easier than Will expected to go outside again, to put on the mask – to act like a normal person. And it was fascinating to observe Hannibal's change once he met other people. The curtain was closed, the monster hidden and only with difficulty was Will able to see behind the veil himself.

Once they reached their first destination, Hannibal greeted the hairdresser like an old friend, with pecks on the cheek and a shower of German words Will did not understand. A mixture of Hannibal's charm and a good tip, Will assumed. It was easy for Hannibal to get someone to like him, a lot easier than it had ever been for Will.

Hannibal pointed in his general direction and the hairdresser looked at him briefly. Will focused on her nose and saw the ghost of a smile on her lips. She directed him to a free chair and covered him with a gown.

Only then did she look at Will more closely. »Oh, what happen to your... ehm... cheek?« she asked, compassion in her heavily accented voice.

Will looked in the mirror. The wound had healed nicely and hurt only now and then, when he ate or brushed his teeth. Hannibal had done what he could to prevent too much scarring, but Will would have to live with it. It would not be easy to hide, even with a full-grown beard.

»A hunting accident,« Will said plainly. He tried to sound disinterested, to make his unwillingness to talk obvious.

»What do you hunt? A tiger?« she asked with a grin that suggested the threatening possibility of small talk.

»A dragon, actually,« Will said.

Before she could ask another question, Hannibal intervened with a few German words. She nodded and left to gather her tools.

»What did you tell her?« Will asked.

Hannibal took a seat next to him. »Only how you want your hair cut.«

» _How do I_ want my hair cut?«

A small smile. »No different than before.«

The hairdresser came back. The smile was gone.

»Let me do the talking. And a bit more subtlety next time, if you please,« Hannibal added, as if the irony of his words was beyond him.

~ - ~

Visiting the optometrist was straightforward enough. Will’s acuity of vision was measured, and he decided, with Hannibal's persuasion, on a dark-blue, almost black frame, which he would have never paid so much money for if it were his own. He accepted it as a gift for his first step of reintegration into society.

A headache crept up on him once they left for the car.

»Got any aspirin, Doctor?«

»Just a moment longer and we are done,« Hannibal said. »You did very well today.«

»Feels like you're training me to act like a normal person.«

»I merely counteract your impulse to retreat into your own head. You have to surround yourself with normalcy, to acknowledge the beauty of the special things in life.«

Will shook his head. »Seems like you and I have very different opinions of what special means.«

»You always wanted to be like everyone else, because being special made you lonely. Do you still feel lonely, Will?«

Will knew what kind of answer Hannibal expected, what kind of answer would be true. He decided not to give Hannibal the satisfaction of saying it out loud.

Instead he shrugged his shoulders and said, »A dog would be nice.«


	7. Chapter 7

They had their session the same evening. Will was in the mood for a drink and his first glass of wine at dinner turned into a second, and then a third, until they had emptied two bottles together. Will was not drunk, but the alcohol had left a warm, fuzzy feeling in his belly. It also loosened his tongue.

»How did you feel today?« Hannibal asked. His accent was a bit stronger than usual.

»Envious of you. Because after everything, you can still behave like a normal human being in public.« Will was aware that he dragged some of the vowels out more than he otherwise would have.

»I assure you that you were still very much human.« Hannibal's attempt at reassurance did not work. He looked at Will compassionately. »Having a better understanding of why people do what they do doesn't make it any easier to socialize.«

»It's easy for you.«

»Patients tend to show more symptoms once they're diagnosed, because they lose the need for pretense. I always felt the opposite. Hiding from the world becomes so much easier once you know what you are.«

»I'm not sure I know what I am,« Will admitted. »Not since we fell.«

»Did you think about killing today, Will?«

Will shook his head. »I tried to concentrate on the more... pleasurable experiences I had.«

»Which pleasurable experiences did you have today?«

»It felt good when she massaged my head... the hairdresser, I mean,« Will said with a relaxed grin. He had lived without sex for years, but marriage with Molly had spoiled him. It had been the first time in months that a woman had touched him, the first experience in a long time that he could call erotic without limitations.

»You enjoy scalp massages?« Hannibal asked with interest.

Will shrugged his shoulders. »I guess.«

Hannibal looked at him for a moment, considering, perhaps, if he would offend Will with his next question. »Would you let me massage your head?«

Without meaning to do it, Will glanced at Hannibal's hands. They were bigger than those of the hairdresser, strong from strenuous work in the kitchen and from the murders of the past. Wiry with age, precise from Hannibal's work as a surgeon. For a tiny, traitorous moment Will wondered how they would feel on his scalp - where the difference between his hands and that of the hairdresser would come from.

»I don't think I'd mind... while I'm still intoxicated,« he suggested.

Will felt calmer than he should have when Hannibal stood up and stepped behind him. A warm, dry hand touched his neck and Will had to fight rising goosebumps. It did not work.

»You have seen me break Mason's neck,« Hannibal said quietly. »I could do the same to you now. Kill you or paralyze you for the rest of your life.« His hand moved upward slowly, beneath his hair, over his scalp.

»I know. But I also know you won't. I haven't done anything to deserve it. Quite the contrary. You're happy I'm letting you do this.« Will sounded more certain than he actually was.

Hannibal's second hand followed the first and he started to make circling movements. »Just making sure you know what you are consenting to.«

»I'm consenting to your... extraordinary form of therapy, Dr. Lecter. Making me think of murder while providing... pleasurable experiences.« Will closed his eyes.

He heard Hannibal's soft breathing behind him. A regular, soothing sound next to the rustling of his hair against his scalp. Hannibal's contact was different. The tips of his fingers were larger, the pressure stronger. Maybe it was because of his dry hair, but it felt more intense; he could feel the subtleties of Hannibal's movements. A sigh slipped out of Will's mouth and he felt himself relax. The wine in his blood made it easier.

Hannibal was gentle, but firmer than the hairdresser, too. He guided his fingers to the right places at the right moments, never remaining at the same spot for too long. It was pleasant.

»Do you like my new haircut?« Will asked, trying to distract himself from the sensory impressions.

The smile on Hannibal’s face was audible. »Yes.«

Will made an approving sound and let his head fall back further into Hannibal's hands.

Hannibal massaged in silence for a while. His fingers moved onto Will's forehead every now and then, tracing the scar he had put there. Hannibal touched the sensitive skin behind his ears and Will felt his legs turn to jelly. Hannibal was more thorough in comparison to the hairdresser. He explored Will's skull at length and memorized his reactions, repeating patterns that Will liked and cutting out those that did not prompt anything.

Will remained in a strange state between relaxation and exertion. He had the feeling that Hannibal could dissipate all the tension in his body. But this was still much more sensual than what Will had allowed him before. He caught himself holding back a moan multiple times. It was not about Hannibal, but about the skill of his hands. A normal, physical reaction to stimulation. Release of endorphins. Will knew how his body worked, but he did not know why he felt so strange about it.

He had not expected any words and flinched from his catharsis once Hannibal said something.

»So, about that dog...,« he began, but Will interrupted him with laughter.

»No way. Are you serious?«

Hannibal sounded serious. »Yes. But not a stray. And I'll pick the breed.«

Will opened his eyes and twisted his head a little to look at Hannibal. »Do you want to choose a name?« Meekness in his voice. The massage had begun to impact his mood.

»Would you let me?«

Will licked his lips. _If you don't stop touching me like that._

»If it's a fitting name.«

Hannibal thought about it for a second, while his fingers wandered through Will's hair. It was not a massage anymore – it was just caressing.

»What about... Botticelli?«

Will chuckled. »Absolutely not.«

Hannibal's hands cautiously bent Will's head forward and he started massaging his neck, stroking up and down the muscles with his thumbs. Will felt tired and slightly aroused, as if he had awoken with a morning glory.

»Michelangelo, then,« Hannibal said.

Will tried to search inside his brain for words to use, but even though Hannibal was encouraging the blood flow in his head, his blood seemed to find its way down south. »That's... that'll be fine. Angelo. Yeah. I can work with that.«

»Then that's settled.« Just a whisper in his ear.

Their conversation came to a standstill and the massage followed moments later. Will made a disapproving noise when Hannibal untangled his fingers from his head.

»How do you feel?« Hannibal asked.

»Utterly boneless,« Will said tiredly. _And increasingly horny._

»So... Who did it better?« There was smugness in his voice.

And then Will realized that Hannibal was able to smell it. Will glanced at him, but his expression was sculpturesque, his brown eyes flat and blank.

Will combed through his hair with one hand. It would take a few minutes before he could trust his legs enough to support his weight again. »Where... did you even learn stuff like that, Hannibal?«

~ - ~

It had become some sort of ritual. They had not fixed a date for it like for therapy, but still they found themselves in this situation over and over again.

It was usually Hannibal who started it, by seating himself in the living room under the guise of reading, before turning the phonograph on. Will could hear the familiar sounds all over the house – when he cleaned his fish, when he showered, when he had taken refuge in his own room. It was an invitation and no one forced him to accept it. The overture was a dance in and of itself.

Hannibal lifted his head then, when he stepped into the room. Questioning. Hopeful. But without demanding anything.

Sometimes Will let him dangle for a while. Taking a seat on the couch, reading a little, until Hannibal asked him outright. But most of the time he just faked a resigned sigh and made it clear that he had gotten the message.

The way Hannibal stood up then and came to him reminded Will of a dog greeting his master at the door. Devoted. Will knew what it did to Hannibal, that he gave him exactly what he wanted. But Hannibal was not the only one enjoying their dances, even if Will did not make it as obvious. Will liked their synchronicity. It reminded him of killing together, just less bloody and a lot less complicated – a good compensation for his darker, sleeping urges.

Will had gotten better. Hannibal had taught him waltz, foxtrot and other dances, the names of which he could not remember but was able to perform despite his damaged rotator cuff. Hannibal's expertise had been honed too, and Will seldom left the room without an increased pulse rate. It was obvious that Hannibal liked to see him like this – color in his cheeks, a tad sweaty and breathing quickly.

They did not often talk with each other while dancing – most of the time it was impossible because it disturbed their focus – but this evening Hannibal had a mysterious shimmer in his eyes and Will could not help but ask about it.

»Let me buy you a suit, Will. Come to the opera with me,« Hannibal requested, though it didn’t sound like a request at all.

Will did not know if he was supposed to laugh or despair. »Any other wishes?«

»Plenty.« A smile.

»I won't look good in one of your three-pieces.«

»I'm certain you would,« Hannibal assured him.

»What makes you so sure?«

»You looked good in the suit Mason made you wear when we came back from Italy.«

Will had to laugh at that. »You remember that?«

»Vividly,« Hannibal admitted.

Will mostly remembered the moment he had bitten off a piece of Mason's henchman's cheek. And the pride on Hannibal's face.

»No opera,« Will said with recurring earnestness.

»Theater?«

» _Hannibal._ «

Will wanted to bury his face in Hannibal's chest to avoid looking at his face. He was sure it would not make the situation any less unpleasant.

»Most people offer something... more simple as a first date option,« he said instead with dripping sarcasm. Will thought about the sordid cinema in town. They had passed by it on their visit to the city and Will recalled Hannibal's dismissive glance. The idea of Hannibal in one of his finest suits, sitting in a small, drafty cinema hall was... charming. Will had to smile once more.

»It's not a date. It's therapy. Reintegration. Social rehabilitation,« Hannibal said.

»How often did you take people to the opera as part of their therapy?«

»Never,« Hannibal confessed.

»You see?«

»Our therapy has always been special,« Hannibal reminded him. »And you are my only remaining patient.«

»You can take me to the cinema. We'll probably be the only people there anyway,« Will scoffed.

»Most certainly not.«

Will smiled again at Hannibal's absolute dismissal. »It was a joke.«

»My offer wasn't.« Hannibal did not give up easily. »Something mainstream but with a tad of class? Something where I can make you wear a suit but without the high society conversations?«

»That sounds... reasonable,« Will said with crumbling resistance. He knew he would not be able to escape Hannibal's whim. A part of him thought about the countless things Hannibal had given him that had made him happy, and in this moment he wanted to give him something back.

Hannibal was preoccupied with his thoughts while they continued dancing.

Only when they stood still again did he inform Will about his newest idea. »A musical, then. Hamburg offers a few. We'll take your measurements here and I'll order a suit for you there on my next visit. I'll show you the city, we're going to fetch your outfit and then I'll take you to a musical. Would that be fine?« There was a hint of excitement in Hannibal's voice.

Will shook his head. He knew it was a bad idea. »Yeah, whatever.«


	8. Chapter 8

Crying seagulls above and chattering people next to him. Distant sounds of boat motors and signaling ships. The smell of the dirty water and the feeling of warm sunshine on his skin. Will strolled along the harbor of Hamburg, a month after their plan had been made. Hannibal showed him all the important places and sights on their way. The 'Elbphilharmonie', planned as a great concert hall once finished, was famous and frowned upon for devouring more and more taxpayer funds from Hamburg's citizens. Hannibal provided him with all sorts of information: he talked about the years the building had been under construction already, about how long it should take to be finished, about the displeasure of the population – always with a hint of amusement in his voice. But even though Will appreciated his efforts and acknowledged them for what they were – an attempt at distraction – he listened to him only half-heartedly.

His focus was not on the different kinds of buildings surrounding them, but on the passing people who talked to each other in their harsh, cold language. They had taken walks together through their small town occasionally, but seeing a few human beings here and there was something vastly different than the hordes of people strolling through Hamburg at all times of the day. It made Will’s nerves feel raw to have so many humans around him. He craved the isolation of their secluded house.

They fetched the suit Hannibal had ordered for him from a store Will would have never set a foot in himself, if he were alone. Waistcoat, jacket and pants were of a dark blue color, the same as Will's glasses, and checkered with a lighter blue. The shirt and pocket square were white and the tie had a paisley pattern. It was so typical of Hannibal that Will had to smirk about it.

When the sun set, Hannibal took him to shadier places. The 'Reeperbahn' was Hamburg's center for nightlife activity and, as he became aware after only a few steps, a glorified red-light district.

»I wasn't aware prostitution was legal in Germany,« Will said when they had passed several brothels, strip clubs and dubious bars. A few skimpily-dressed women winked at him from the other side of the street. Hannibal, in one of his fine suits, appeared out of place here.

»Do you ache for something like that?« he asked.

»Paying for sex?« Will laughed. »No. I'm not that desperate.«

»I was referring to the carnal desires themselves.«

Will gulped at that, sudden embarrassment crawling up his neck and making his skin look feverish. Unwanted images of Hannibal's scalp massage and his physical reaction to it infiltrated his brain. He looked away quickly.

»You'll be the first one to know,« Will said quietly.

Will could _feel_ Hannibal's grin widen and was thankful when he changed the subject. »There is a lot of crime going on in parts of a city like these. Prostitution can be a very dirty business.«

Will instantly knew what he was talking about.

»Are you suggesting something?« It came out more reproachful than he had planned.

»No. I am merely stating a fact.« 

~ - ~

Hannibal had booked two rooms in a hotel that was more than sufficient for Will's needs. When they parted to change into their clothes for the night, Hannibal handed him a new pair of shoes. Will was glad to have at least so much freedom as to decide on his underwear himself.

They met again half an hour later in the lounge. Will felt confined by his clothes. The fabric felt too delicate and expensive on his skin - like an alien element, used to switch into a different role, to become a Will he normally was not. He wondered if Hannibal felt that way, too, if he wanted to feel that way. Maybe it was easier for him this way - to simulate humanity, to intimidate his environment and make his social rank evident to everyone.

Hannibal wore a similar suit, just a shade lighter. There was an emotion on his face that Will could not name when he took a good, long look at Will. A deep fascination, a hunger of some sort. Will knew that gaze, although now it was extensified.

»You look-« Hannibal started to say, but Will interrupted him.

»Don't.«

~ - ~

»The Lion King? I watched the movie when it came out,« Will said once they stood on the ferry, crossing to their destination. Hannibal had bought tickets for the last showing of the day, and the lights of the great hall reflected on the black water in front of them. The ferry was crowded, people chattering, but with his gaze upon a body of water, Will did not mind it so much.

»It seems to be Hamburg's most famous musical.«

»Doesn't seem like your usual taste.«

Hannibal smiled. »That was not the deciding factor.«

~ - ~

The lobby area was big enough that Will didn’t feel boxed in.

»I'll need a drink,« he said nevertheless. Hannibal nodded. They stayed clear of the overcrowded souvenir shop and climbed the stairs that led the way up to the bar.

» _Stephen_!« a female voice shouted behind them. Hannibal turned around as if his own name had been called.

Will searched for an emotion in Hannibal's face as two strangers approached them. Hannibal's eyes stayed cold, but his smile was friendly. It looked wrong on his face, like a bad imitation. Perhaps Will was too adjusted to his real smile by now. It eased a bit of Will's tension. Whoever those people were, Hannibal did not consider them a threat.

The two new figures were a chubby man in an old, threadbare suit and a slightly younger woman in a red cocktail dress. Will's eyes darted over them quickly. Both worked with food, the man had a back condition, the lady suffered from a slightly deformed hip. No children, but they had been married for many years.

»Marie, Wolfgang. What a pleasant surprise,« Hannibal said once the couple had reached them.

Marie had short hair that was supposed to make her look younger. Will concentrated on the wrinkles on her forehead as he felt her looking at him. Her eyes lingered on his scar for a moment too long.

Will managed a fake smile. It felt less convincing than Hannibal's.

»Nice to meet you here,« Wolfgang said in return. He had a strong accent and his words fell like stones out of his mouth, crude and shapeless.

»Wolfgang and Marie are the owners of the delicacies business I frequent when I am in Hamburg,« Hannibal explained.

Will opened his mouth to say something, but Hannibal continued, »And this is William, my husband.«

A lot of things happened at the same time. Will flinched because he heard his unabridged name for the first time in years. Then he realized that Hannibal had introduced him as his husband. And then his gaze went to Hannibal's left hand, where a prominent ring was displayed, very similar to his own. Will was sure he had not been wearing it mere minutes ago.

»Oh, the famous husband! It's nice to finally meet you!« Marie said.

»Hi,« Will managed to utter and tried to keep his fake smile from crumbling. He had to concentrate on this conversation. And then he would kill Hannibal.

Wolfgang knitted his eyebrows thoughtfully. »You know, now that we have all met... I always wondered, Stephen... If I may ask. Who is the original McLaughlin? My apologies if I am mistaken, but... even though your name is English, your accent doesn't sound it...«

»I was born and raised in Denmark, but my father was an Englishman. He named me and took me with him when I was 17. And that's where I met my William McLaughlin,« Hannibal explained as if he had told the story a thousand times already.

Will did his best to try and kill Hannibal by simply looking at him. Hannibal continued to smile, perhaps a bit more honestly than before. He had to go, now. Fury seeped into Will and he was not sure if he could keep this game up much longer without bursting.

»Why don't you get us something to drink, Stephen?« Will asked with his most convincing British accent. It felt wrong.

Hannibal must have felt the urgency in his voice. »Of course, my dear. Please excuse me for a moment.«

And suddenly Will was alone with two strangers.

He breathed in deeply through his nose. A hundred thoughts buzzed in his head, but he tried to remain focused on one thing at a time, a thing that had nothing to do with how Hannibal had pronounced his full name, how he had said 'my William' or 'my dear'.

»You called me 'famous' before. Does Stephen talk so much about me?« he asked instead, trying to look bashful. He wanted to know just how long Hannibal had planned this role for him.

The pair exchanged glances that augured ill.

»Oh dear, he talks about nothing else,« Marie said enthusiastically.

»Please do continue. I'm curious.« Maybe he sounded too ironic, but as the conversation progressed Will had more and more problems with taking any of this seriously.

Marie seemed to be entirely in her element. »Only positive things. He really got us wondering about you. If you listen to him talking about you, you get the impression that... his whole world revolves around you, you know? Whenever he buys ingredients, he expresses just how much you love certain dishes, and how much he loves cooking them for you... Stephen must invite us to dinner sometime.«

Will did not manage to keep the ironic smile from his lips any longer, but he tried to sound earnest when he said, »I'm sure he'd love to have you for dinner. Me, too.«

For just a second he imagined a scenario in which he and Hannibal killed Marie and Wolfgang together. He spent another second on a idea of how to display their bodies. Finally he thought about the kinds of meals Hannibal could create from their organs. The visions went away as fast as they had come, but Will felt sick nonetheless.

»He's really fond of you, you know. You are quite lucky to have him,« Wolfgang confirmed.

Will did not know what to say. His pulse began to throb. »Yeah.«

In that moment Hannibal came back with two glasses of champagne. Their fingers touched when he passed Will his glass, prolonging the moment by milliseconds.

Will let Hannibal do the rest of the talking, listening with only half an ear when they talked about gourmet food and Hamburg's rental prices, about the musical and an invitation to dinner. Hannibal took over the conversation with ease and Will stood next to him like a shy appendage; pretty, but bland arm candy. Will almost preferred it that way. It was easy to hide behind Hannibal's colossal ego and turn away from the rest of the world.

»We'll have to take our seats.« It was Hannibal's voice which roused Will from his thoughts.

Wolfgang fixed his eyes on Will for a moment. »It was a pleasure to meet you, William.«

»The pleasure was all mine,« Will answered, and hoped that this was the last time this evening that he would be forced to fake a smile.

~ - ~

»I hate you so much, _Stephen_ ,« Will muttered under his breath once the other couple had departed. The hall around them had almost emptied. The musical would start in a few minutes.

»I'm merely teaching you how to play a role. And this role was the easiest to play. Introducing you as my husband results in less questions asked.«

»You could have warned me, but you enjoy seeing me react to situations like these, don't you?« Will asked. Built-up anger needed release, but it was hard to be mad at Hannibal when he made sense.

»It's good training. You never know when you'll need it.«

Will sighed, downed the rest of his champagne and surrendered for the moment. »How long, exactly, have you planned this?«

»A while,« Hannibal admitted with a smile that was sincere now.

~ - ~

It was a nicely staged play, Will thought. He did not understand a single word spoken, but the music communicated the mood regardless. Will liked the costumes and the stage design, the performance of the dancers. He enjoyed himself when he was able to concentrate on the musical itself. The crowd of people irritated him though, and made him a bit nervous, distracting him from the proceedings from time to time.

After a while Hannibal laid his hand on Will's own. Its dryness felt good on his sweaty skin.

They exchanged glances for a moment. What Will saw made him want to stand up and go, ideally forever. But he would not be able to, for that _Thing_ grasped at him and held him down with awful, alluring strength. It made his knees wobbly. Hannibal felt it too – Will _knew_ he felt it. He looked happier than he had ever seen him before. His whole attention was directed towards Will, as if the spectacle on the stage was of no matter as long as he could watch Will react to it. Will felt the press of Hannibal's ring. It was colder than his hand for a short amount of time and adjusted to his body temperature slowly. Will relaxed his hand and let Hannibal lace their fingers together. Hannibal's happiness crashed into him as a high wave would hit the shore.

It was all part of the performance, but Hannibal had chosen his role with consideration. He made it impossible for Will to take his hand away without busting the farce, but in this moment Will was glad about the contact. Hannibal's touch grounded him, gave him something that he knew and understood in this gigantic hall full of new impressions, full of people whom he had to try to ignore.

In his naivety Will had thought of Hannibal as his paddle, back when he had not been able to see behind the mask. But now the comparison felt more fitting than ever.

It felt both a lot easier and a lot more difficult to concentrate on the musical with Hannibal's hand in his.

~ - ~

They said their farewells to each other in the middle of the hotel corridor. It was awkward. They normally retired without informing the other about it. It had become another quiet and natural part of their everyday lives. This was different. It felt wrong, somehow, to part after they had spent so much time together, after Hannibal's hand had lain in his for so long.

»Thanks for... this,« Will said. He meant it. »I enjoyed the musical.«

»Did our visit to the city broaden your horizon?« Hannibal asked with a psychiatrist's curiosity.

»Only time will tell,« Will answered evasively. Hannibal's allusions about killing echoed back to him. He would not share today's fantasies with Hannibal.

What he did in the privacy of his own hotel room that night was nobody's business, and if he touched the scar on his stomach during it, he would never admit it. Afterwards, he lay awake for a long time, and when he finally fell asleep his dreams were filled with nightmares that he could not recall the next morning.

~ - ~

»You know, I thought about kissing you on the bluff.«

They were driving home. Until now their journey had been a silent one.

Will had not planned to say anything. But there was a curiosity inside of him. Maybe it was payback for the way Hannibal had toyed with him in front of his new friends the previous day. But there was nothing more satisfying in this moment than watching Hannibal react to his words.

There was a fraction of a second in which Hannibal lost emotional control. Will could see it on his face. Any other person would probably have missed it, but Will knew it was there and he relished it.

Hannibal's grip on the steering wheel tightened fractionally. He blinked twice before answering. »Why is that?« Then he was back to perfect poise, no emotion in his voice. 

In this moment they were in therapy - and maybe they were having a breakthrough.

»It felt like the right thing to do.«

»Then why didn't you?«

It was incredibly simple and that was the reason it was so hard to say.

»Because I couldn't have tried to kill us if I had,« Will whispered.

He felt raw emotion in the man beside him. Desire and lust and need. Will almost expected him to pull the car off the road and claim what was his - what ought to have been his from the beginning.

He didn't.

They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think "Can you feel the love tonight" is not _the_ Hannigram song, then you are mistaken. (Well, the German version is actually much more fitting. The text is vastly different, even the title of the song "Kann es wirklich Liebe sein?" translates to "Can it truly be love?", which is... quite different from the original!)
> 
> The Stephen McLaughlin thing is inspired by [ this ](http://you-dropped-your-forgiveness.tumblr.com/post/136841020526/wellxd) tumblr post.


	9. Chapter 9

Three days later the familiar sounds of the phonograph reached Will's ears.

They had not talked much since coming home from Hamburg. Insignificant chitchat during meals, hellos and goodbyes when Will went out fishing. After their conversation in the car a strange distance had developed between them. Hannibal was even more careful now not to push Will into an unwanted direction.

This outcome had not been planned. Will was uncertain what he had wanted to achieve with his straightforwardness, but it had not been Hannibal's obvious dejection.

And now that offer again - so easy to accept, so easy to ignore.

Will lay on his bed and waited, listening to the tunes and feeling the pull. Then he decided. He got up, opened his wardrobe and began changing his clothes.

~ - ~

» _Will._ «

He sounded disbelieving. Hannibal's eyes darted up and down, as if seeing Will for the first time. The same expression he had worn in the foyer of the hotel, but more open now, more intense. He liked the way he looked, Will knew. He liked the gift Will was giving him by dressing like this in the confinement of their home, for his eyes only to see.

»I thought... maybe...« Will was unsure what to say and how to say it. The choice of his clothes was an attempt at apologizing, just like Hannibal's invitation through music had been a plea to return to their easy daily routine.

»Yes.« Hannibal seemed surprised, almost shocked. »Yes. Let me... Let me change the music.«

Hannibal stood up and changed the vinyl, his movements almost urgent. It intrigued Will - once settled, Hannibal had never changed the music before.

The tonearm crackled on the disc. Hannibal turned around and held out his hand in invitation. The gesture seemed more meaningful than usual. Will took his hand hesitantly and stepped closer. Hannibal offered a smile in response – the first real one since they had returned from Hamburg.

Familiar music filled the room. Will tried to let go of his thoughts, to concentrate on dancing and to enjoy this moment of simple communication through body language, foregoing words. They waltzed in silence for a long time, bodies aligning, until Will had a stitch in his side. When he tried to disentangle, Hannibal did not let him.

He looked Will in the eyes. »One more.«

A new tune began to play. Will listened for a while, catching his breath. »What's that? Sounds familiar.«

»My own composition.«

Will remembered. Hannibal had played this piece a couple of times in the last few weeks. It felt... more personal than the rest. It was also quite slow, with a particular beat.

»I don't know how to dance to this.«

»I'll show you. Put your hands on my shoulders.«

Will did as he was told. Hannibal carefully put his hands on Will's hips. It was an unusual arrangement. Then it clicked.

»Slow dancing?« Will asked in disbelief.

Hannibal made an approving sound.

»Not exactly ballroom dancing, is it?«

»Just enjoy the music, Will.«

They moved slowly, almost remaining on the spot, swaying softly to the beat. It was different than their other dances. Grace, synchronicity, physical exertion and precise movements were not the point right now. They were closer to each other than ever and that was the only reason they danced like this. Hannibal had dropped all pretense. It was impossible for Will to look at his face. Will could hear how he breathed in and out – a bit faster from the waltz, a bit faster from their closeness. It felt like their embrace on the bluff. Hannibal's composition fit the memories that overwhelmed Will. He did not need to ask to know that Hannibal was thinking about the same thing, that he had thought about it while writing this piece. It sounded like melancholy, like longing, like Hannibal's expression in the last few days.

» _Hannibal_ ,« Will said softly, suddenly enveloped by a warm feeling. A pleasant kind of intimacy and mutual understanding. The sudden desire for more.

He brought their torsos closer together, changed the position of his arms around Hannibal and laid his head on his shoulder. Hannibal's breath caught, just as it had before they had fallen.

This time the air was not mingled with blood, and his blood, in turn, was not so very full of adrenaline. This time there was only Hannibal and the music, perpetual and sweet in his ears like the sound of the sea. No cliff from which he could cast them both, if his feelings became too much.

Will pulled back a little bit to look at Hannibal, to check if everything was alright. He felt Hannibal's hands tremble at his hips. He looked shaken.

Will looked into his eyes and saw a hundred different kinds of feelings. Feelings that scared Hannibal, because he did not recognize them. It was addictive, to see him like this, so different from his usual self, so far away from every bit of control.

Chiyoh's words materialised like uninvited guests inside of his head. _There are means of influence other than violence._ Will got it now. He saw how he could influence Hannibal, how he was influenced by him, with nothing but a simple touch. Another move in their zero sum game.

Will looked at Hannibal's lips, open, without the blood of a Dragon. Back to his eyes. Desire, ravenous desire; he needed something, desperately, now, but he made no move to claim it.

Will could not help but think about how long it must have been since Hannibal's last sexual encounter. Over three years, presumably. Bedelia, presumably. Will thought back to the moment he had closed the gap between them on the bluff. How breathless, speechless Hannibal had been, for the first time, just because Will had touched him.

They leaned forward at the same time, Hannibal with the same hesitancy he always showed in situations like this. And then their mouths met. Will felt the warmth of Hannibal's lips on his own for the first time, but it felt as if they had done it a dozen times already.

It felt good. It felt right.

It was a short and chaste thing, their kiss, and yet an enormous load seemed to drop from his shoulders. As if they had cleared a hurdle that they should have cleared a long time ago.

He felt Hannibal's fingers digging into his skin reflexively, pulling him closer. He was starved, eager to be touched, eager for Will's initiative. He probably deserved some, as a just reward for his months of patience and ever pleasanter touches.

Will looked back into his dark eyes and lost himself to them, saw his own inner fortresses crumble under the weight of his gaze. Suddenly he felt all those things that Hannibal could feel, felt them mingle with his own emotions, until he could no longer distinguish them from one another. Hannibal's eyes shone wetly. It was too much for him, and, because of that, it was too much for Will. He pushed him away as gently as he could. Hannibal released him instantly, as if he had expected Will to reject him. Too good to be true. Their link broke. The distance was painful.

»Excuse me,« Will said hoarsely. He turned away without looking at Hannibal again.

His legs did not want to move, but he had to go. He could not get lost in Hannibal's mind, could not let his last walls tumble. Could not let Hannibal win. He felt the panic rise.

He found the way back to his room through muscle memory alone. Once he had closed the door behind him, his legs gave way and he slid awkwardly to the floor.

»Fuck,« he hissed through clenched teeth.

~ - ~

A knocking at his door.

Half an hour had passed. Will had discarded his suit, save for the undershirt and his shorts, and lay in bed now, wrapped in warm blankets and without hope of sleep any time soon. He had spun himself a cocoon, hoping to emerge as something new once tomorrow came.

His brain told him not to answer, to let Hannibal go again, but something inside him blanched just thinking about more days of painful silence.

»Come in,« Will called after a few seconds.

Hannibal closed the door behind him. »Did I wake you?« His voice was warm and sympathetic.

»No.«

Hannibal approached and seated himself on the edge of the bed. It was too dark in the room to see anything, but Will could feel Hannibal's weight on the mattress and the heat of his body through blankets and clothing. It was comforting.

»What happened?«

Will decided on a counter question. »Are you asking as my psychiatrist?«

Hannibal did not answer right away.

»Yes.«

Will sighed. »I felt you infiltrating my brain, as though you were... mind-controlling me. I couldn't discern between you and me anymore, between what you wanted and what I wanted and so I retreated.«

»No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love,« Hannibal said softly.

Will remembered those words. It felt like a lifetime ago. He hid his head beneath the blankets. »Shut up, Hannibal.«

»What is it you want, Will?« Hannibal asked with genuine interest.

»I don't know,« Will said. It sounded more distraught than he liked.

»Did you enjoy it?«

»Yes,« Will conceded.

»Do you want to do it again?«

Will found no clear answer to that.

They were quiet for a while. Hannibal did not attempt to touch him. Will wondered if this was the end of their unorthodox therapy. At least it had reached its goal. Will had learned to feel comfortable and safe with Hannibal, to crave his proximity. And now he was so confused about what he really wanted that he felt like it was ripping him in two.

»I feel horrible,« Will said.

»There's nothing about us to feel horrible about,« Hannibal answered, self-assured as always. He waited for a moment and stood up when Will did not respond. »Get some rest, Will. You'll feel better in the morning.«

The unexpected loss of weight on his bed left Will with a depressing feel of hollowness.

_But do you ache for him?_

»Would you...« Will managed to say before the words died in his throat.

Hannibal waited. »Yes?« he asked finally.

»Do you want to... sleep here, tonight?«

Will bit his tongue the moment the words left his mouth.

Hannibal was taken aback once more. It took him a moment to recover. »Do you think that would be a good idea, Will?«

Hannibal left the room without waiting for another answer.

Will felt terribly embarrassed, but that was not the worst of it. The uncertainty and the painful feeling of rejection were worse. He escaped from his self-built prison, suddenly feeling boxed in. Will rolled onto his back and tried to take deep breaths. He still felt constricted, but maybe it was just his heart.

He could hear Hannibal moving through the house. Ten minutes. Ten endless minutes. And then he came back. Will heard him close the door again, heard his slow footsteps on the carpet. He wanted to be heard. Another moment of hesitation before Hannibal lay down next to him.

Warmth. Will did not have Hannibal's sense of smell, but even he could scent the aroma of unease and excitement wafting off of both of them. Hannibal would not take the first step, Will knew that by now, but it still took him a moment to gather his courage. He took two deep breaths again before he turned to face Hannibal, put his arm around him and pressed his face into his pajama, all without waiting for a reaction. Hannibal smelled like fresh clothes, like aftershave, like brushed teeth and like sweat from dancing. One of the buttons poked his cheek, but the fabric of Hannibal's pajama itself felt soft like a cushion. Will closed his eyes and knew he would not be able to sleep.

Hannibal said nothing. Will wondered if he had searched for fitting words and found none, or if he thought they did not need any. He felt Hannibal's arm looping around him, pulling him closer into an embrace. He heard Hannibal, his head pressed into Will's hair, breathe through his nose, felt him tremble for a moment. Will searched for the support he had found in Hannibal's presence, but there was something else there now, too – an obscure, dragging pain in his chest that felt paralyzing.

A few minutes or hours later, Hannibal started to caress his back. Will felt the tips of Hannibal's fingers on the fabric of his clothes and on the nakedness of his shoulders. He wished he was wearing nothing at all, wished he could be even closer to him, wished he could climb into Hannibal's body and hide there.

In the early morning hours, when shy light poured into the room and allowed Will to see the pattern of Hannibal's pajama, he finally fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

He woke up alone.

Will stayed in bed for a long while. He had his eyes closed, Hannibal's scent still in his nose and a weird, mournful feeling in his gut. For a few minutes he let himself believe that Hannibal had gotten up for just a moment and would be back shortly; that Will would be able to ignore the accumulating complications of their life together for just a while longer.

Hannibal did not come back.

Will took a long shower before he dared to venture into the kitchen. Hannibal was there. He made breakfast, just like every morning.

»Good morning, Will,« he greeted. He sounded exactly like he usually did, but his face looked different. Will could tell that he had not slept. He felt reminded of his time at college, of fellow students who had spent the night actively engaged and had attended lectures the following day dog-tired yet happy. Will had envied them sometimes, but most of the time he had only felt contempt for them.

»G'morning,« Will answered. He took his cup of coffee and sat down at the small breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen.

They did not talk during Will's first cup. Will found the strength to speak only when Hannibal had finished his work and placed a plate before him. »So, do we talk about this or...?«

Hannibal sat down across from him. »I wanted to leave the decision up to you.«

»As my psychiatrist you wouldn't have been content with me sweeping this under the carpet, would you?«

»No. But I _would have_ given you some time to contemplate.« Hannibal began to eat.

Will sighed. »I think I might be contemplating too much.«

Hannibal chewed, thought, and then swallowed . »I would agree. The problem you're facing, Will, is not your attraction to me, but your inability to let go of your fears.«

»I'm not...« Will poked his food with a sigh. »I've never been... I'm not interested in men.«

»Sexuality is a fluid thing for most of us. You are attracted to things that provide you with stability, because you feel unstable yourself. Combine that with the human desire to be understood and loved and it's hardly surprising we ended up this way, unaffected by our gender. We have a connection that surpasses that of most humans.«

Loved. »Hardly surprising for you,« Will murmured.

Hannibal looked at him for a long moment. »It's true, I haven't been in quite as much denial as you, Will.«

»I asked Bedelia if you were in love with me,« Will blurted out and averted his eyes.

A few seconds of silence followed, before Hannibal said, »It seems I wasn't aware in just how much denial.«

Will could not meet his eyes, but it sounded like Hannibal was smiling.

~ - ~

After breakfast, Will went sea fishing. The house was too confining, Hannibal's thoughts too loud. He needed time for himself.

Clouds hid the sky. It was a mid-morning that colored even the sea beneath him gray. Nobody else was out in this weather, and only the seagulls and their cries above kept him company. Will thought about Hannibal, about teacups and time.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he kneaded his fingers until he came upon his wedding band. He looked at it for a moment, thought about Molly, about the last three years, about what had happened and what would never be. He took it off. It was warm in his hand.

»You always said I was a sweet man,« he whispered. »Would you still say the same if you saw me now?«

He hesitantly stretched his arm over the side of the boat. »I really tried, you know. And failed miserably. I'm sorry I couldn't be what I tried to be. You deserved-«

Will stopped, suddenly disgusted with himself, with his self-pity. He opened his fist and the ring fell into the water, unceremoniously. It was gone in seconds, vanished in the depths of the North Sea. Will wondered if it would come up again. If the turn of the tide would bring it back to the shore.

»Please take care of the dogs.«

~ - ~

If Will had hoped that the night they had spent together would help resolve some of the tension between them, he had been wrong. Unresolved conflicts hung in the air and Hannibal allowed Will more space than ever. He refrained from touching Will, from even standing too close to him. They did not talk about what had happened. It was a friendly gesture in name only, ostensibly to give Will time to think and make this decision on his own. In reality, it was much more unpleasant. Hannibal had taken his time to push Will in the direction he had wanted, and now he was leaving him here alone.

The dining room had become a war zone. They were waiting, stubbornly, to see who would break down first. Hannibal did not comment on Will’s missing ring, but a few days later, after Hannibal had been to Hamburg again, he pushed a small box towards Will while they were eating.

Will's laden fork never found its way to his mouth. He looked at the box and then at Hannibal.

»No.« It was the only answer he could think of.

»Marie and Wolfgang will be joining us for dinner the day after tomorrow. You'll need one to re-adopt the role,« Hannibal said, in a tone that tolerated no dissent.

Will stored the ring in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe, as far back as possible.

~ - ~

»Tell me about myself,« Will demanded in therapy the next day. He did not want to talk about their visit to Hamburg, not about the kiss or the night in his bed. Instead, he decided on a less painful topic. »What does William McLaughlin do all day? What have you told your new friends?«

Hannibal took a seat opposite him and crossed his legs. »Not a lot.«

»Only what an amazing husband I am?« Will asked bitterly.

»Is your embarrassment over the role I gave you something you wish to discuss?«

That stung. »What is there to discuss? I know why you did it. Easier to explain. Easier for me to hide behind you. Easier for you to get amusement out of. Nothing to be done about it now. I'll choose the roles next time.«

»Next time?«

Will had to abstain from rolling his eyes at Hannibal's delight. »In case we have to leave this place.«

»We'll have to eventually. The FBI might officially consider us dead, but uncle Jack is more than likely still looking for us, especially after his unfortunate resignation... if Freddie Lounds' information is to be trusted. But hopefully he won't find us so very soon.«

Will did not want to think about it. He had grown accustomed to the house, to the quiet, to the opportunity to fish whenever he wanted. He could not foresee circumstances under which they would voluntarily leave their home, and he would prefer it if Jack did not find them. It was not hard to guess how that situation would turn out.

»Back to Marie and Wolfgang,« Will said, dismissing his gloomy thoughts.

»I have told them only the most necessary things, nothing specific. I'm certain that you can create your own character, Will.«

Will raised an eyebrow. »And if I screw it up?«

»Then we are happy to have them so close to our fridge already,« Hannibal said.

Will had to let that sink in for a moment. Then, »Do you want me to screw up?«

Hannibal licked his lips almost imperceptibly. »It wouldn't be advisable and it would definitely not go unnoticed if they were to disappear.«

»But you would still enjoy killing them,« Will suggested.

»I always enjoy a certain amount of chaos.«

Will leaned back in his chair, tracing a finger over the armrest. »You put their lives in my hands, because you want to see how I will react to the pressure. Stakes are high.«

Hannibal drank from his whiskey. »As I said, Will, I have huge faith in you. I always have.«


	11. Chapter 11

Will spent the morning of the following day planning his character. He tried to improve his British accent – memorised words and sentences that he could to use. He felt like an actor preparing for his role. But this scene would only be filmed once. He had to be convincing the first time around, if he did not want to put the lives of their guests at risk.

Hannibal was busy setting up dinner. Will was used to the quality of his food by now, even if Hannibal did not work on their meals with such intensity every day. He had made the mistake, once, of stopping by a supermarket when coming back from fishing, too hungry to wait until he got home. But after months of Hannibal's cooking, he had not been able to finish even half of the sandwich he had bought, feeling sick from the mere taste of it.

He helped Hannibal in the kitchen now and then, especially when they made something from the fish he caught, but today Hannibal rejected his offer.

»Get dressed,« he told Will, concentrating on the ingredients in front of him. »It's a shame that you'll have to wear the same suit. I'll lend you one of my ties once I'm done here - to mix things up a bit.« He smiled to himself. »Something with red, I think.«

Will put on his suit. Then he waited. He took out the box from his sock drawer only when he could not postpone it any longer. He had not opened it before, but he was not surprised to find that the ring was nearly identical to his old one. It felt heavier. Of course – it had probably cost more than Will's whole wedding.

Will looked at the inner surface and was relieved to find no inscription.

~ - ~

He had reckoned to be nervous, but Will was strangely calm once their guests arrived. He drifted through the encounter, making use of the positive aspects of his empathy, judging the mood of Marie and Wolfgang and conversing within the scope of his fabricated character traits. Will had expected to be asked about his scar, and this time his subterfuge went smoothly. He talked about 'that stupid workplace accident' and how it had changed the way he looked at life.

»Life's too short for such dangerous work,« Will said, and explained that he and Stephen had decided to go on vacation for a few months and had ended up here.

»Holiday's getting longer than expected.« Marie hung on his every word, obviously believing him. Wolfgang was more difficult to read, more withdrawn and introverted than his sociable wife. He did not seem to doubt Will's story, but he did not seem particularly interested in it either.

Hannibal served the dish, which had some French name Will could not be bothered to memorize. He waited for their guests to start eating, waited for their reactions, and only then did he take a bite from his own plate. He turned to Hannibal with a smile.

»It's absolutely delicious,« Will praised, even before he had swallowed his bite.

Of course it was delicious, it always was, but Hannibal was not accustomed to being complimented by Will. They talked about so much during most meals that Will tended to forget to mention anything about the food which, considering all the work that Hannibal invested in it, was quite ungrateful.

Hannibal beamed at him, even though he had to know that this was part of the role Will was playing. It made Will feel oddly happy to have evoked such a rare reaction.

~ - ~

Marie was drunk after the main course. She was one of those women that did not feel any shame asking for more alcohol. And Hannibal was not the sort of host to refuse her.

»So.... you guys,« she said, very freely, her German accent thick and slurry. »I really gotta... really gotta ask you guys a question.«

Will sighed almost inaudibly. He looked in Marie's general direction and prepared himself mentally. He could not know what she would ask, but it was unlikely that he would like the question. It was almost sad, really. The evening had been... pleasant until now and his role had become natural.

Marie giggled girlishly, amused by her unvoiced words.

»Sooo,« she drew out, her grin wrinkling her face. »Who of you is on top?«

Will felt frozen, for a moment. He closed his eyes for just a second and waited for the inevitable sense of shame that would flush his ears bright red. He was surprised to find that he did not feel anything. Just annoyance at Hannibal, for letting him tumble into this situation. Perhaps he did not mind the implication because they did not really have sex.

Will risked a glance at Hannibal. He seemed to be enjoying himself, as usual, and met his gaze with a clear, coquettish question on his face. _Did you think of that, too? Was it part of your character's design?_ And in that moment Will knew that Hannibal would not answer. Neither would he.

Wolfgang cleared his throat after a few minutes of awkward silence. »I... I must apologize for my wife,« he said. »She's... a bit tipsy, it seems.«

The realization of what she had said seemed to dawn on Marie slowly. She had the decency to look a little guilty.

The dessert, _Sanguinaccio Dolce_ \- a mixture of blood and chocolate, Hannibal explained, and one of his favorite desserts - was consumed in silence, even though Hannibal tried his best to keep up the flow of conversation. Will started to feel worn out, his acting becoming physically exhausting. He had been on a roll, but Marie's clumsy question had destroyed it.

Hannibal let him retreat inside for a few minutes, before he brought him back to reality by laying a hand on his own.

»Everything alright?« he asked, low-voiced, with concern that was not entirely faked.

»Yes,« Will said quickly, feigning an excuse. »I'm a bit tired, s'all.«

Wolfgang pounced on Will's words like a hyena. »We should get going as well. It's a long drive back.«

»You are welcome to stay the night if you'd prefer to drive in daylight. We have a room for guests,« Hannibal offered, perfect host that he was.

Except they did not have a room for guests. Will realised abruptly what it would mean if the other couple chose to stay the night, given that Hannibal seemed to be planning to let them wake up the next morning. One of them would have to give up their bedroom for the night.

Wolfgang refused. He did not mean to be rude - Will could see it in the way he carried himself, but the situation was uncomfortable for him. He wanted to go, no matter how pleasant the company. Will empathized with him. Marie had obviously been the driving force behind their visit in the first place. Wolfgang seemed to be a lot less keen to study the McLaughlins in their natural habitat. The food was just a pretense - embellishment. Marie's fascination for Hannibal and himself, Will realized, was her attempt to distract herself from her own life's tristesse.

Marie said her farewells hastily, still a little coy. She whispered something in Hannibal's ear and he shook his head in answer.

Will decided that he did not want to know.

~ - ~

Once Hannibal had closed the door behind their guests, they both stood silently for a few seconds, listening to departing footsteps, hushed voices that began talking in German and two car doors that slammed shut in quick succession. Will exhaled deeply, tension easing.

»Thank you,« he said.

Hannibal turned towards him, hands in his pockets. »For letting them go?«

»Yes.«

Hannibal smiled. »Why wouldn't I? You played your role magnificently. That small hiccup at the end was hardly your fault.«

They stood closer together than usual. It was hard to break out of character after pretending to be married for a whole evening. It felt like the moment they had stood in the middle of their hotel corridor. Uncertain, fighting against the pull. It was harder to resist in the solitude of their own home, almost impossible. _Home._ Will smiled. He had referred to Hannibal's house as 'home' right from the beginning, had he not?

Will laid his head on Hannibal's shoulder, suddenly coveting the consolatory warmth and reassuring contact. The last few days of silence and distance seemed to disappear all of a sudden. Will thought about his bed, thought about the cold that awaited him there and about the thoughts he would not be able to suppress.

»Wanna share a bed tonight?« Will asked, as expressionlessly as he could manage. The two glasses of wine he had drunk made things a little easier.

Hannibal made him wait for a moment before he answered. »Your bedroom or mine?«

Will was grateful that he did not ask why.

»Yours,« Will said with determination. He would need a place to hide if things got out of control.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder to take a look at the tags.  
> Major thanks to [ fragile-teacup ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/)for taking the time to beta!

»Go ahead,« Hannibal said. »I'll clean the dishes first.«

Will climbed the stairs to the second floor and slipped into his own room with a sigh. The moment he stepped out of Hannibal's radius, he began to feel the impetuosity of his idea.

He prepared himself for bed as quickly as he could – taking off his suit and folding it neatly so it would not crumple. Then he stood still for a moment, feeling the silk of the tie Hannibal had given him move through his fingers. He remembered how Hannibal's hand on his bare shoulder had felt.

»Screw it,« he murmured to himself and got rid of his undershirt, too.

~ - ~

The waiting was killing him.

Will had decided to lie down after restlessly pacing through Hannibal's room for a few minutes. With a bit of luck he could pretend to be asleep already when Hannibal finally came to bed.

The bed linen smelled fresh and yet like Hannibal. Will tried to calm down and closed his eyes. He kept them that way, even when he heard Hannibal coming up the stairs.

He heard the door close. Then nothing for a long moment. Will was aware that Hannibal could see his naked shoulders from his position at the door.

»Shall I turn the heating down?« Hannibal asked. No uncertainty in his voice. He asked out of politeness.

»I'm fine,« Will said. »Thank you.«

Hannibal went to the bathroom. Will heard the rustling of clothes and the running of water. The house was badly soundproofed, so Will knew that Hannibal usually took a shower before going to sleep. He didn't today. Maybe he thought he had made Will wait long enough.

He didn't hear him come back. He flinched when the light on the nightstand suddenly went dark and the bed gave in to Hannibal's weight.

His body was cool. Will, already adjusted to the warmth of the bedding, felt goose bumps raise on his forearms. Thankfully, Hannibal did not ask him if he felt fear or pleasure this time.

He wore a different pajama – something silky and soft – and he had left the topmost button open. When he turned around to press closer, Will felt the hair on Hannibal's chest tickle his nose. The unfiltered smell of him reached his nostrils. He smelled like soap and skin, but most importantly, he smelled like _Hannibal_ \- a specific, indescribable scent his brain had learned to associate with something positive. Something comforting.

The same embrace as before: Will's arm around Hannibal, and then, with some hesitancy, Hannibal's hand on his naked back, short-circuiting Will's brain. Will felt the imprint of a ring and was shocked to notice that he had forgotten to take his own off. It probably had little to do with forgetfulness on Hannibal's part.

»Was it bearable?« Hannibal asked quietly.

»It was... exhausting. But yes,« Will answered. »You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot.«

»Dinner can be very engaging.«

Will smiled. »You looked like a happy duckling the entire time.«

Hannibal chuckled and Will felt the small vibration against his cheek. He sighed and pressed closer, closing his eyes and trying to shut down his brain. Hannibal let him – for a few minutes.

»We have to talk about this, Will.«

Will did not answer. He knew what was coming, but he didn't want to explore this change in their relationship just yet.

»We are both particularly stubborn. But this... situation will not be resolved if we keep on going like this. You cannot force me to take the first step and my patience allows me to wait for a very long time.«

»Aren't you taking the first step right now?« Will asked.

»I'm _suggesting_ we both work together. Whatever you are doing, Will, stop playing games. I have been completely honest with you since we fell.«

»Except when you forgot to tell me that we are married,« Will reminded him. And then: »Honesty can still be manipulative. So can devotion.«

»Give what you want to receive. After you tried to kill us I realized that I couldn't force you to partake in murder without damaging you irrevocably in the process. Part of you wanted it to be over, but part of you also wanted us to survive. I asked you if you craved change, remember? And you wanted the Dragon to change me. The Dragon changed us both. On the surface,« Hannibal moved his fingertips from Will's back up to his facial scar, »and under it.«

Hannibal's touch on Will's cheek was gentle. He explored it with measured tenderness.

»You'd rather I didn't have it, would you? Because it's not one of yours?« Will asked quietly.

»Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real. I don't want you to forget our fight with Francis and what it did to you.«

»But you still think _you_ gave me the best memento.« Will caught Hannibal's hand and guided it downward, to his stomach and to Hannibal's farewell gift. Will remembered the cliff and how Hannibal's hand had gripped him, right there, almost possessive.

»Our scar,« Will whispered.

Hannibal's breath hitched. »I saw it before, but I never...«

»You undressed and dressed me several times.« Will laughed. »And you never touched it?«

»You weren't conscious,« Hannibal said as if that would explain everything.

He stroked over the scar a few times, evoking memories of the last evening in Hannibal's kitchen and replacing them with more positive associations. Will sighed under his touch, giving in to the warm, dry sensation of skin against skin.

»Don't play games with me, Will,« Hannibal implored again. His tone was different from anything Will had heard from him before.

He shook his head. »In order to play a game you have to know the rules. I don't know the rules, Hannibal.«

»Children don't know rules and they play all the time, leaving chaos in their wake.« There was something in his voice that made Will think he was asking for mercy.

Will would not have done it in daylight. Not without the cover of the night, not without Hannibal's intonation, not without the warmth of his hand against their scar. He leaned forward and kissed him, desperation getting the better of him.

The taste of their dessert hung on Hannibal's lips – sweet and metallic. He was soft and warm and inviting and Will couldn't find the strength to resist. Hannibal did nothing for a long moment – shocked and almost awestruck at Will's sudden initiative. He waited for Will's reaction, waited for rejection and sighed when Will made no attempt to break the kiss. His hand found his way back to Will's head, ran through his curls, holding him gently, letting Will know that he could escape whenever he wanted to. It was too much, way too much and yet Will could not stop.

Hannibal was the one who ended the kiss. He was holding back, possibly afraid of overwhelming Will. Doubtless his inner strife was communicating itself to Hannibal. Hannibal's desire for more hung heavy in the air.

»No,« Will whispered, closing the distance between them again for a short kiss, keen to not start thinking again. He would not let Hannibal's compassion for him be the end of this. »More.«

Will pressed their mouths together again, more forcefully this time. Hannibal gasped into their kiss. It was almost shockingly human. Will wanted to hear it again and again - the gasping and the sighing and the hitch in his breath, for it made Hannibal more vulnerable than Will had ever seen him. They traded touches like wounds, careful to even the other out. Will tried to lose himself and keep his composure at the same time. It was, obviously, impossible.

»Why are you doing this to me?« Will murmured against Hannibal's mouth. »I feel like... a moth drawn to a flame.«

Hannibal broke their kiss again and moved his hand to caress Will's jaw. »That is hardly fair, Will. I didn't inherit the Dragon's fire alone. If I am to be a flame then you are fuel. I merely bring out your true purpose.«

»Still leaves me burning,« Will said and brushed their lips together again.

They fit too perfectly. Hannibal's mouth felt like it had been made for Will's, and Will hated and loved the feeling. He got dizzy from fear of losing control. He couldn't let Hannibal in, even when he felt his tongue licking thirstily against his lips. The bloody taste in his mouth reminded him too much of the part of Hannibal he wanted so desperately to fight.

Hannibal tried to abandon his lips and kiss his way down, but Will shook his head.

»Don't,« he said simply and Hannibal obeyed. He tried again with his hand, but once it reached his chest, Will grasped it and shoved it down onto his cock at the same moment he took Hannibal's in his. A diversionary tactic for his thoughts.

Hannibal let out a startled moan, but didn't object, just kissed Will again, hungrier this time, but still denied access inside.

Will felt the hardness under the silky fabric of Hannibal's pajama pants: hot and throbbing, pressing relentlessly against his hand. It wasn't the best position, but it was good enough for exploring unfamiliar territory. Will's hand was shaky. He was inexperienced, while Hannibal stroked him with the calmness and precision of a surgeon, mapping him so thoroughly that Will wondered if he wanted to measure his length and girth, to store the information in his memory palace.

For a few minutes it was enough to touch each other like that, with the rustle of silk, Hannibal's sighs and the wet sound of their lips. But Will's nervousness grew as time passed – the drilling in his head got louder and the tremor in his hand stronger.

»Let's change sides, shall we?« Hannibal asked, his voice breathless and his accent thick. Will nodded fiercely before letting go of Hannibal and turning onto his back.

Hannibal followed, rolled over Will and stayed, one leg between Will's, kneeling above him. Will thrust his pelvis up, inviting Hannibal to free him from his underwear and Hannibal did, hungry and eager to touch him.

Another kiss before Will worked up the courage to do the same to Hannibal. He bared his cock with both hands and fumbled for it in the dark. Hannibal's skin felt silky even without the clothes. Will moved his shivering fingertips over Hannibal's newly-exposed member and enjoyed the moan he elicited in answer. Hannibal murmured Will's name against his lips and for a moment it all felt good and natural. Hannibal's hands were as big as his own, bigger than any of his former sexual partners, firmer and stronger, and they knew what they were doing. Hannibal stroked him carefully but with determination and if it hadn't been for the nagging in his head, Will would have been able to come just from that.

Hannibal's increasing volume was a clear indicator that he had no such burden of conscience. He began jerking his hips into Will's hand in search of more friction. His movements on Will's erection quickened and Will followed suit. He touched Hannibal in the same way he liked to touch himself. It was alarmingly easy, as if it were a practiced sleight of hand and not something he was doing for the first time. Hannibal pressed their foreheads together; Will felt the hot breath on his swollen lips. Hannibal kept up an even breathing rhythm, his whole body taut from restraint.

»It's fine, Hannibal,« Will whispered and that was all Hannibal needed. A violent tremble wracked his body and he came, a low moan escaping him, all over Will's hand and stomach.

He stayed above him for a few seconds, motionless and breathing heavily, before dropping next to Will on the bed. He plastered lazy kisses onto Will's shoulder, his right hand still fondling Will's dick.

»It has been a while,« Hannibal said apologetically, breath calming slowly. His voice was warm and amused and endlessly happy.

Will had nothing left to concentrate on, just his own lust and the nervousness that didn't seem inclined to vanish anytime soon. Under Hannibal's firm grip he felt like he was at his mercy – even if the languid kisses with which Hannibal worked his way up his throat did not suggest dominance.

Will remembered killing the Great Red Dragon with Hannibal; remembered how he had ripped out a piece of his throat with his teeth. Hannibal could do the same to him at any time, but didn't. Pleasure and fear mixed inside of Will's guts and made it impossible for him to come even close to climax.

»I can't come from this, Hannibal,« he said after Hannibal had claimed his mouth once more.

Hannibal deliberated for a moment before he licked over Will's lips seductively. An offer.

»No,« Will refused with a distraught laugh. »That... that would make things worse.«

»What a shame,« Hannibal said while he stretched across Will and searched for something on the nightstand. »I would enjoy having you come in my mouth.«

Whatever it was that Will had wanted to answer, it came out as nothing more than a whimper. Shame prickled on his neck and heat spread over his ears. It wasn't the words, really, it was the fact that _Hannibal_ had said them.

Hannibal put something soft into his hand. Will clenched his fist around the tissues from the dispenser.

»Clean yourself up. I'll be right back,« Hannibal said in an uncharacteristically happy voice and remained in bed a moment longer to give Will a kiss, as tender as if it would be their last.

And then his warmth was gone. Will heard the bathroom door click shut.

He allowed himself simply to breathe for a moment, to ignore the world around him. His hectic pulse calmed down a little, but the restlessness stayed.

Will cleaned up the mess Hannibal had created and discarded the used tissues on top of Hannibal's nightstand. In another situation, thinking of how much Hannibal would dislike that would have amused him.

As it was now, Will's queasy feeling only got stronger. His previous thoughts returned. He covered his eyes with the back of his hand, but it did nothing to banish the newly created memories that would now haunt him forever. Will still tasted Hannibal on his lips, still heard his moans ringing in his ears, and the smell of his release filled the room, permeating Will's skin. Will wanted to be ashamed, but his cock, still painfully hard, did not seem to agree with that notion. The urge to flee was almost overwhelming, but Will made himself wait for Hannibal's return. To flee now would only make everything worse.

Hannibal wasn't gone for long. Back in the bedroom, he laid down next to Will again, entirely naked now. His nudity was both comforting and intimidating. He had brought a new scent with him, something Will couldn't quite place. Some kind of oil, perhaps? Hannibal took Will's head into his hands, brought their faces close together, demanded the entirety of Will's attention. The piece of metal on his left ring finger felt cool on Will's cheek. Hannibal initiated a short kiss, shy like the last one.

»How would you like to do it?« he asked. It took Will a moment to realize what he meant.

_Oh._

Will's mouth felt very dry. There was only one answer. »From behind.«

Hannibal let go of him and positioned himself on the bed without asking further questions. Will was sure he must be dreaming. His legs felt wobbly as he knelt on the bed and made his way over to Hannibal. He clutched at Hannibal's hips for balance before he let his hand wander. Hannibal was broader than a woman, hairier than a woman and Will was taken aback at how little he cared about it, once his fingers found the puckered hole Hannibal had slicked. For him.

»Fuck,« Will uttered in disbelief.

No patience to wait any longer, no thought in his head apart from his wish to be inside him, now. Will took his dick in hand and pressed in, just a little, and the tightness surprised him.

»Have you.. ever...« he asked between clenched teeth, suddenly overcome by realization.

»No.« Hoarse.

Will tried to go slow, but Hannibal's heat was too tempting and he himself too close to his goal. He pushed all the way inside Hannibal and sighed at the encompassing warmth of his body. Hannibal made a noise not unlike a hiss, muffled by the pillow he was pressing his head into. Will knew he could take a lot more pain than that without a sound escaping him. It was directed at him - a plea for leniency - but Will could not oblige. He could not forego the temptation of using Hannibal's body the way he wanted to. Hannibal had made himself vulnerable and what he got in return were a few hard, erratic thrusts that could not be too enjoyable. It made Will euphoric. Hannibal's attenuated moans sounded undignified and a dark, hidden part of Will liked to hear him like this; liked dominating him as no one else had dared before him.

Hannibal clenched around him when Will hit his prostate.

»You like that?« Will moaned, did it again, hit the same spot.

He did not wait for Hannibal's answer. Now that he had spoken again, more words and sentences gushed out like water from a fountain. »Fuck, Hannibal, is there anything you wouldn't let me do?« His southern drawl, normally indistinguishable, broke through. »You're cooking meals for me three times a day, every day of the week, without ever hearing a thank you. You're paying for everything, absolutely everything, as if money was no concern at all. You're letting me go out to fish whenever the fuck I want, without ever having the assurance that I'll come back. And now you're letting me do this... to you. You'd let me do anything I want, wouldn't you? Because you want to make me happy? Because you don't want me to try to kill myself again?«

»Yes.« It sounded broken.

»Would you let me kill you if it pleased me?« Will bit hard into his bottom lip.

Hannibal did not answer. Will felt his sweat under his hands, heard the rustling of the sheets whenever Hannibal's fists balled up in them. He was incapable of doing anything but taking what Will gave him.

Will realized that this would be his last chance. If he wanted to kill Hannibal, he had to do it now. There would be no going back after this; he would not have the strength for it. Will's fingers pressed harder into Hannibal's hips; he knew they would leave bruises. The heat grew intolerable, the tingle in his abdomen stronger. 

He let his chance pass.

It was okay to let go. He could, here, with Hannibal's influence so increasingly diminished. His thoughts were banished into the hindmost chamber of his mind. Will had power – over himself and over Hannibal.

Will felt his muscles contract and buried himself deeper in Hannibal, as deep as he could. He collapsed on top of Hannibal while waves of satiation rolled through him, making him twitch uncontrollably. He murmured something against Hannibal's sweaty back and wasn't sure what it was a second later.

Will came only slowly back to reality. Even then he allowed himself to remain lying a moment longer, the smell of their blended sweat and sex filling his sinuses. A few seconds of simplicity, before he pulled out slowly and sat back on his heels.

He heard Hannibal turn around, but nothing more. No words, not even the sound of his breathing. He was absolutely silent. And that was the precise moment Will realized what he had done.

Will's heart began to beat louder and faster. It wasn't arousal or love for this man; it was fear. He was afraid of Hannibal as he had never been before, not even when he had seen the knife flash in his hand.

»Go,« Hannibal said, emotionless. He spoke the word quietly, but it cut through the silence like a blade. It was not a request.

Will nodded, even though Hannibal could not see it. He stood up as quickly as his trembling legs would let him, pulled up his underwear, and bolted out the door.

~ - ~

It was another sleepless night for Will. The fear of Hannibal's revenge was not as present in his own bed, but he had different demons to fight. He felt like he had lost. As if his body had betrayed him. The feelings of guilt did not make it any better.

He heard Hannibal moving around his own room and the bathroom – showering, changing the bed sheets, turning off the lights again. There was a stiffness to the way he walked around that Will hadn't heard before. His usual grace was missing. Will wondered if it was from the physical or the mental harm he had inflicted.

In the early morning hours, Will realized for the second time that he was still wearing his fake wedding ring. He took it off with a deep sigh and placed it on his bedside table.


	13. Chapter 13

He must have dozed a little, for it was already bright as day outside when Will next opened his eyes.

His first thoughts were directed at the scent of sex still clinging to him. Hannibal's scent. It was mildly arousing – for a moment. His memories returned slowly and painfully.

Will stayed in bed for a few minutes and wondered why he was still alive. Why Hannibal had let him go in the first place. He did not like the conclusion he came to.

~ - ~

Something was different when he left his room after a long shower. The house was completely silent.

Hunger drove him to the kitchen. Breakfast was ready – but it was cold and Hannibal nowhere to be seen. No note, either. Will looked out of the window and noticed that the car was missing.

It was strange to eat alone in their too quiet house. Will did not taste anything, but he ate it all, reluctant to waste anything Hannibal had prepared for him. He'd happily die from the poison. He washed the dishes and put them back where they belonged. He looked out the window again. Nothing.

No pacing and no distractions today. He seated himself in the living room and made himself wait.

Will spent two hours in absolute silence. Two hours in which he accepted the punishment of his thoughts, tried to bring them into some resemblance of order and grew restless because it didn't work. Because Hannibal wasn't there. Two hours before he heard the car, before he wanted to feel relieved but felt exactly the opposite.

Will heard the key turning in the door and then Hannibal's footsteps. But there was something else, something clattering on the parquet in the entrance hall. Will was deeply familiar with those sounds, but he was still surprised when Hannibal did not enter the living room alone.

It was a gorgeous dog. A shy-looking borzoi, with silky gray-white fur. Will wondered why he hadn't realized before. Borzoi. Graceful and sophisticated, powerful and fast. Quiet and intelligent and very independent. The perfect breed of dog for Hannibal.

»I wanted to give him to you as a reward. For dinner,« Hannibal said in greeting.

Will's gaze wandered from the dog to Hannibal. He was a very different creature in daylight. His face was blank, his eyes cold, but Will still remembered the heat of his body, felt it surrounding him still. He wondered if Hannibal could still feel him inside, too.

»Wanted to?« Will thought about another gift Hannibal had wanted to surprise him with. Another present he had not proven worthy enough for.

»I will not kill the dog, Will. That wouldn't help either of us.« Hannibal sounded upset, wrongly accused.

Will leaned back in his armchair. »Are you going to kill me?«

»If I wanted to kill you I would have done it yesterday,« Hannibal answered and sighed. »Why is it so hard for you to believe that I don't want to harm you?«

Will shrugged. »I gave you enough reason for wanting to harm me. I would want to harm me.«

»Still feeling suicidal, Will? Tell me, have I done anything to shake your confidence in me since we started sharing this new life?«

The dog approached Will with hesitant steps. Will stretched out his arm and let it sniff his hand.

»You didn't,« Will said, distracted by the animal. Something wasn't quite right.

»Then I would ask you to-«,

» _Hannibal_ ,« Will interrupted.

A moment of silence.

»What is it?«

»I have... news for you,« Will said carefully.

Hannibal sounded like he was holding onto the last straws of his sanity. »And what would that be?«

Will knew it was inappropriate in the current situation, but he couldn't keep the excitement from his voice. »Well, first of all, it's really great that we decided on Angelo. And second of all, I'm pretty sure that you'll have the chance to use the name Botticelli in the foreseeable future.«

»I don't think I quite follow,« Hannibal said, but there was a note of foreboding in his voice.

»Michelangelo is a she. And she's pregnant.«

Hannibal did not answer. Will saw cold fury on his face once he looked up. It felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

»Did the owner give you his business card?«

Still no answer.

Will stood up slowly and took a couple of steps in his direction. Hannibal's eyes didn't track Will's movements, staring right through him. Hannibal breathed steadily. He didn't tremble. In fact, he would have looked normal, albeit a little absent-minded, to an outsider. But Will saw the emotions behind the facade. He looked as he had in the moment he had stabbed Will, just without the blood. For the moment.

Will swallowed thickly. »Hannibal. Give me his card, please.«

Hannibal's eyes cleared at the sound of his name. His hand went into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. He held out a small card. Will took it, but kept Hannibal's hand in his, hoping his touch would soothe him the way it usually worked in reverse. Hannibal did not pull away. Will was in no position to beg for the life of a stranger, not after what he had done, but he could do what was in his power to defuse the situation.

They kept silent for a long while. Will felt Hannibal's immediate anger ebb away slowly, felt how it was added to the growing pile of unresolved feelings inside him.

»We're not going to keep the pups,« Hannibal said eventually.

Will smiled faintly. »Not all of them.«

It was hard to keep the knowledge of just how much Hannibal had given up for Will's well-being locked up. An integral part of him. How hard to control his urges must be. Will could see his composure slipping away bit by bit. He didn't want to imagine what would happen when it was too late.

Will saw Angelo approach from the corner of his eyes. She scented Will's leg and whimpered softly, sensing the tension. Will released Hannibal's hand and bowed down to pet her.

»We have to talk,« he said.

Hannibal watched him quizzically.

»About killing,« Will clarified and straightened up again.

»Not about yesterday?«

It hurt to think about it. Will didn't find it astonishing at all that Hannibal wanted to approach the topic mercilessly, even if the alternative was talking about murder. »I don't think I could stand it. I think maybe we better not do that.«

»Do what?« Hannibal wanted Will to give it a name.

Will did it begrudgingly, making a face. »Talk about fucking.«

Hannibal seemed displeased with Will's choice of words. »I think it's essential. It was a very therapeutic experience for you.«

Will chuckled joylessly. »Doesn't really feel that way.«

»Therapy doesn't mean that you should feel better about yourself. It's about understanding one's inner workings and conflicts. What you did yesterday was very obviously the discharge of your pent-up tension. And what you didn't let me do was a clear sign of your fear of me. I can't hurt you if you don't let me touch you.«

»I enjoy your touch.« Will felt the declaration heavy on his tongue.

»You enjoy my touch to some degree,« Hannibal agreed. »A massage is fine, because it lacks direct sexual stimulation, no matter in how many different ways I could kill you while doing it. But coming undone under my touch, or even worse, my mouth? Giving me such an opening would mean losing for you, losing yourself to me.«

Will crossed his arms. »It's not even because of the cannibalism. Or at least that's not the deal breaker. I know you won't pick a part of me to eat any time soon, just as I know you won't break my neck when you massage me.«

»It's about power, Will. You like the power you have, the power I give you over me, willingly. You expressed that very clearly. By dominating me you evade my influence. You don't have to fight your trust issues that way. You don't have to face your feelings and your repressed attraction toward me if you just use me for sex. But I am not interested in letting you dominate me, nor do I want to dominate you. You are my equal. You think giving yourself to me in flesh is the same as submitting, as being manipulated into an unwanted direction by me. That is not the case. This is not about winning our zero-sum game. It's about sharing pleasure. And it would be a much more enjoyable experience for the both of us if you let go.«

Will shook his head. »I don't think I can do that.«

»Then I suggest we don't indulge in such activities again until you are certain that you can. You are facing two problems, Will. Your inability to trust me, which we have been working on, and your inability to face who you are.« Hannibal sounded frustrated.

»I will never be able to trust you the way I trusted you back when I didn't know what you were and what you did to me«, Will affirmed in a cold, quiet voice.

Hannibal looked like he had been slapped in the face.

Will had no mercy with him. »You forced Abigail's ear _down my throat_ , Hannibal. Pretty sure that counts as _rape_ to a lot of people. You abused me countless times and now you hold a grudge against me because I am unable to trust you. You can't just say that it isn't part of the game and expect me to forget all of this, just because it would make the sex better.«

It was Hannibal who avoided eye contact this time. »I wanted what was best for you. I didn't _enjoy_ abusing you; I did it for your greater good. You betrayed my trust for the sheer purpose of feeling better about yourself.«

»Didn't really work, I can promise you that,« Will said, smiling ironically.

»I am aware. The teacup may never gather itself back together again, but I can still try to fix it manually. It's a slow process and it won't be exactly like it was before, but it will _hold_ if you are willing.« Hannibal sounded like he had the night before, oddly vulnerable.

Will knew that Hannibal was the last person who needed to be protected from anything, but he still did what his instincts told him and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Hannibal remained rigid for a few seconds. Then he acquiesced, relaxed his muscles and grew heavy in Will's arms - all of his power spilling out and over Will in palpable, cold splashes. Will cursed himself for how good it felt to have him susceptible to his touch like that.

»I am _trying_ to be willing. I appreciate your effort, I really do,« Will whispered, aiming for a propitiatory tone of voice. »But I can't... ignore everything that happened before, just because we have been born anew. It won't work.«

»I don't want you to forget. I want you to accept. To embrace the things I did to you as the necessities of your becoming.« Hannibal sounded exhausted.

»Might take a while longer before I am grateful for your corruption.« Will put his head on Hannibal's shoulder. »I enjoyed killing with you. I know I'll have to let you do it again. But even if we put aside all the moral dilemmas, it's hard to decide if you made me a happier person in the end.«

»As I said,« Hannibal muttered, »that's not the point of therapy.«

Will pulled back a little and tried to meet Hannibal's gaze. »I think it's futile to persist in saying we have a patient-psychiatrist relationship. We definitely crossed that line yesterday, Dr. Lecter.«

»Then what are we, Will?«

Will could not find an answer.

Hannibal allowed Will to hold him a moment longer before he retreated. It was hard for Will to look him in the eye, so instead he looked at their new housemate. Angelo sat peacefully next to them and studied her new owners expectantly with big, dark eyes.

»So,« Hannibal began finally. »You wanted to talk about killing?«

His voice betrayed his intention to tease Will. They were both too worn out to have this conversation.

»Give me a fucking break.«


	14. Chapter 14

»I used to make the dog food myself, you know. Healthier.«

They were sitting by the fireside in the living room after dinner, Hannibal with a book and Will with a lap full of dog. Hannibal was still tense from the night before and their morning conversation. Will saw it, even in the softly lit room, but the day had been quiet for him, with Will so busy with the dog.

»Does that mean that you'll monopolise the kitchen from now on?« Hannibal asked, trying to smile. Will sensed that he felt better. Will did, too.

Will scratched Angelo behind the ears. She looked up at him with sleepy eyes. It had been an exciting day for both of them. It would take her a while to become accustomed to her new surroundings and Will's newly enforced rules. With no other dogs around she couldn't follow anyone's example. Well, no other dogs around yet.

»She'll need the additional energy for the puppies. I won't feel good about giving her canned food.«

Will remembered cooking for his dogs. It had been tedious sometimes, but he had missed it.

It felt like a new beginning and it was both hard and rewarding to start from scratch. Getting to know Angelo – her character, her traits and little quirks – made Will happy and gave him the opportunity to concentrate on other things. He knew dogs. It was familiar territory – additional stability, sorely needed.

»If only you were as cautious about what you put in your own body.« Hannibal's smile was sincere now. »I'd like to see you cook by yourself.«

»Dog food, Hannibal. It's really not on your level.«

It was strange how easy it was to fall back to the level of casual intimacy they had had before last night. Over were the months of separation and the attempted murders before forgiveness could be offered and accepted. Their relationship had become stronger. They had found peace here and they both wanted to keep it.

»How did you not realize she was... well, female?« Will asked.

»I'm not a veterinarian. I don't have as much canine experience as you do,« Hannibal said, looking at his book again, now that the conversation had shifted from cooking back to dogs.

»Her belly's pretty round already. Maybe three more weeks before she's whelping.« It was exciting. None of Will's dogs had ever had offspring under his care. »You should have asked me to come with you. I could have told you.«

»I wanted it to be a surprise. It seems I was too trusting of the trader.« Will saw him frown.

»It's odd. She's probably carrying mongrels, but even then they would hardly be worthless. She seems pretty young, though. Probably her first pregnancy. Maybe he got cold feet.«

Hannibal's face was unreadable. »What he did was beyond rude.«

»I would prefer if you didn't kill him,« Will said softly. It was neither a suggestion, nor a request. Just an uttered wish.

Hannibal closed his book and looked up. »Do we talk about this now?«

The flames of the open fire danced upon Hannibal's face, but vanished in his dark eyes. It made Will's skin tingle. He sighed. »I guess we are.«

»Do you want us to kill again, Will?«

It was hard to answer even that question truthfully. »No,« Will said eventually. »But I keep on taking from you. I have to give you this or something's bound to break.«

Hannibal cocked his head. »Are you afraid to break, Will? If we do? If we don't?«

Another long moment passed. »I am. And that's why... that's why you're going to do it alone. I'll be there. But I won't help you.«

»You plan to watch me kill?«

»Yes,« Will said quietly.

»Do you think of yourself as my warden, Will? My guardian angel, ready to strike me down if I stray from the path of righteousness?« There was derision in Hannibal's voice.

»I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy what we did back... in our former lives. But the criteria by which you choose your victims is... unacceptable to me.«

»You'd prefer killing other murderers.«

»Everyone I've killed has been a murderer. I won't start eliminating the rude with you, Hannibal,« Will clarified. »And I won't watch you kill them.«

»Then we will choose accordingly,« Hannibal said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps for him it was. He paused for a moment before he asked, »Have you ever wondered how many lives you saved by killing, Will?«

»Have you? Did you catch up on all the lives you saved as a surgeon yet? Are the kills from the people you manipulated into murdering counting for you, too?«

Hannibal stared into the distance. »I wonder if I ever had a murderer on my table.«

»Your dinner table or your operating table?«.

Hannibal ignored him. »The question arises whether any of the men and women I saved took lives of their own afterwards.«

»Makes you feel like a God, doesn't it?«

»Everyone who has killed or saved or bred can feel like a God, if it is that easy. You killed Hobbs and Tier and Dolarhyde. How many more lives would they have taken if you hadn't stopped them?«

»How many more lives would I have saved if I had been successful when I tried to kill us?«

»Our actions shape the world around us. _Especially_ ours. Even by preserving humankind we create more killers,« Hannibal explained. »How do you think your child would have turned out?«

»You mean the one you took away from me before it had the chance to live?« Will asked tonelessly.

»He would be... three years old now, wouldn't he?«

The thought pained Will. »Yes.«

Hannibal smiled. »What do you think is more likely? That he'd have your empathy... or your eyes?«

Will was unable to answer for a long moment. It was a concluded chapter of his life – children. Margot and the unborn child she had lost; Molly and Walter, whom Will had tried to be a father to. What he had left was Hannibal, with whom he could have had the same, if things had been different. Now it was too late. Now he would never have such an influence on a young life – and perhaps that was for the best.

»Are you planning to... harvest?« Will asked after a while, desperate to talk about something - anything - else.

Hannibal gazed at him longingly. »How eager you are to suffer for my sake.«

»Answer me,« Will demanded.

»Yes. Though it would be advisable to be discreet if you want us to continue our life here for a while longer. We shouldn't choose someone from around here. And we'll have to hide the body instead of displaying it, I'm afraid.«

Those were things Will didn't want to think of now. Things he couldn't think of if he wanted to catch at least some sleep at night.

»Do you want me to... join you at the table?« he asked instead.

»Would you, even though you don't share my appetite?«

»It's rude to answer a question with a question, Dr. Lecter.«

Hannibal waited for an answer. Will looked deep into his eyes. He could only see hunger in them.

»Yes.«

~ - ~

They lived in that idle quiescence for a few days – not moving forward, not moving backward, barely talking about anything of substance.

It would be a few months until they could actually go for a kill – Angelo had to bear her pups first – but Hannibal was already looking for someone suitable. They needed to plan accordingly and Will would have to approve of Hannibal's choice. There was no rush. Hannibal seemed happier just knowing that Will would allow him to kill again. The former grace to his movements was still missing, however, and it was obvious that their clumsy sexual encounter had left its marks on him.

It had left marks on Will as well. The memories of that disastrous night were still so fresh, so raw and undigested, that he couldn't help thinking about it multiple times a day. Hannibal's presence didn't make it any easier to forget. Sometimes Will caught himself staring at his hands or his lips, remembering how they had felt on his body – his weight and warmth and the texture of his skin – and was busy wishing his hard-on away for minutes to follow.

They had shared something – or more accurately Will had taken something – and he missed it. He missed Hannibal. Now it was Will's job to make the first move.

It was another uneventful evening. Angelo had nested herself into the bed Will had made for her and Hannibal had retreated to his study in order to draw.

Will had spent the last half hour staring into the fire, lost in thought, thinking up plan after plan and discarding them all.

In the end, he did what felt right. He stood up, took one of Hannibal's vinyls out of the cabinet and placed it onto the phonograph. He adjusted the needle. Soft cracking and then the music started, the first few notes of Hannibal's composition filling the room.

Will closed his eyes and concentrated on the emotions the music laid out like a map in front of him, trying to decipher and to find meaning in them. He couldn't hear Hannibal coming down the stairs and crossing the room, but he imagined he could smell him before he felt him. Hannibal put his arms around him from behind. Will kept his eyes closed and leaned into his body, cocked his head a little and exposed his throat to him, open and assailable.

They listened to the music without exchanging any words. Minutes felt like hours, but eventually Hannibal's composition faded out and one of the well-known waltzes started. Will opened his eyes reluctantly. He was none the wiser.

»I really want to kiss you,« Will said, directing his words to the phonograph.

»And I want to allow you to kiss me.« Hannibal's warm breath on his neck made Will shiver. »The question is if it is something you want to do only now, because you feel like it, or something that you would allow me to do to you when it pleased me, too.«

It took Will a while to understand Hannibal's words. »You want it to become... ordinary?«

»Kissing you could never be considered ordinary. Commonplace would be a more fitting choice of word.«

»How could I know if I want that unless we try?«

»By finding a balance between thoughts and emotions. Your fear and desire are the reason we are in this situation in the first place.«

»We could have had it all,« Will said, voice laced with irony.

»We still can.«

It sounded so awfully hopeful. Will couldn't understand _why_. »Why do you even want this, after what has happened?«

»Because I love you,« Hannibal said as a matter of course.

There was a pause. Will didn't know how to answer. He could barely breathe. His heart felt like it had shattered into a thousand pieces. It shouldn't hurt so much to hear it.

One of Hannibal's hands circled their scar over the fabric of Will's shirt. _Lovingly._ »I think you needed to hear me say that.«

»I had no doubts about it before.« Will thought his own voice sounded free of all emotions.

»But you tend to ignore it. You don't want me to say it, because of what it might say about you. What it might do to you. How do you feel?« Hannibal whispered against his skin. Will had never liked the sound of his voice as much as he did now.

Evaluating his feelings took a moment. »Broken, mostly. Maybe a little happy in a weird, melancholy kind of way.«

Hannibal released him. Will turned around. He couldn't meet Hannibal's eyes.

Hannibal gave Will the kiss he wanted so badly, but it was so short and restrained that it only made matters worse. Nothing to lose himself in, nothing to allow him to ignore his contradictory feelings, just reinforcing them. All the love Hannibal had for him clouded Will and made it as difficult as their first kiss.

»And now?«

»Worse.«

»You wanted this,« Hannibal reminded him. »I can offer you many things, Will, but not this. Not if you only want this in order to forget. It has to be genuine. It has to mean something.«

»Of course it means something,« Will whispered, leaning in for another kiss, but Hannibal refused him.

»And what is that?« he asked instead.

»You tell me.«

»You covet, Will,« Hannibal explained. »And how do we begin to covet? Do we seek out things to covet?«

Will shook his head. »No. We begin by coveting what we see every day.«

»Don't you feel my eyes moving over you every day, Will? I hardly see how you could not. And don't your eyes move over things?«

If Will hadn't been staring at their feet already, he would have done so now.

»Think about it, Will.«

Another kiss, on his brow this time, before Hannibal let him go again.

»It will get more frustrating the longer you wait,« he promised before he turned to disappear once more. »Good night, Will. You should also try to get some sleep. Your worries will still be here tomorrow.«


	15. Chapter 15

Will took Angelo out for a walk as often as he could. She had dashed through the woods at the beginning, excited to explore unfamiliar places. Will had thrown sticks for her and a few times she had even brought them back. Now, with her big belly hampering her movements, she preferred to stroll leisurely next to Will. She was getting closer.

Sometimes Hannibal came with them and sometimes they drove into the nearby heath together, letting Angelo see scenarios different than the forest around the house. Will enjoyed the sights as well. The days had been getting shorter and the temperatures were already dropping. The flowers that had painted the heath purple only a few weeks ago were dying and left the landscape brown and dull. Will almost liked it better that way. It gave the heath a raw beauty resembling death – and it kept other visitors away.

It was a quiet affair, most of the time – even if Hannibal accompanied them on their walks, they mostly enjoyed each other's silence. It filled Will's heart with an easy, domestic kind of happiness, something akin to what he had had with Molly and Walter. He would never have thought it possible to have something so close to normalcy with Hannibal and he wasn't always sure he liked it – he knew it wouldn't stay this way, that nothing good ever lasted, especially with Hannibal. Especially when they planned on murdering again.

The ground beneath them was muddy from the recent rain. Will and Angelo hardly cared, but Hannibal avoided the wet spots as if he wore his best shoes. It didn't surprise Will that they bumped together from time to time. Hannibal did his best to make it seem unintentional. Their hands barely brushed, but it was an obvious sign – a question Hannibal was too proud to ask out loud.

He felt deprived of the easy touches that had become normal in the last few months. The touches that had been revoked since Hannibal made it clear he needed Will to be genuine about them. Hannibal knew Will missed them too.

Will gave him what he wanted. He reached for his hand and interlaced their fingers. Hannibal looked taken aback. The touch crackled in his eyes.

His hand was warm and familiar and stoked the uncomplicated feeling of bliss. Will wanted to feel irritated by such a clumsy attempt at manipulation, but found he couldn't.

»This is fine,« Will said. It felt like defeat, but only a little. »I mean... long-term fine.«

Hannibal smiled.

~ - ~

Will had not been this excited for a long time. They had bought the things Angelo would need and Will had built the whelping box himself. He had done hours of research, read tips and watched videos. He never felt prepared enough.

»One could be under the impression that you are the one about to give birth,« Hannibal said at dinner one evening, noticing Will's nervousness and his constant glances towards Angelo, who was sleeping contentedly in her box, giving no sign of imminent birth.

Will glanced at Hannibal instead. He looked amused. »You ever helped with a birth before?«

»I worked as a surgeon, Will,« Hannibal reminded him. »I did a few emergency C-sections.«

»I meant in the traditional way.«

»No. And I'm sure Michelangelo will manage on her own. Fussing over her will only make her more nervous.«

Angelo had become trusting in the last few weeks. Will was sure his presence would soothe her. He wanted to be there, to look after the whelps and prevent any complications. He couldn't bear the thought of one of the pups dying when helping could have saved it.

»As you said before,« Will said stubbornly, »you are not the expert with canines. I am.«

»And I have no doubts about your abilities, Will.« Will wasn't sure if Hannibal's answer was sarcastic or not.

~ - ~

»They're coming!«

In hindsight, Will thought it would have been a better idea not to wake Hannibal up by rushing into his bedroom in the middle of the night.

Will had spent the last few nights on the living room couch to be at Angelo's side when the time came. A few hours ago she had begun to turn around nervously, yipping and yowling. And now she was in labor. Will could have stayed there with her, could have helped her by himself. But it had been his first impulse to tell Hannibal, to have him there when she bore her pups. He was the one who had chosen Angelo, after all. It only seemed fair. It had nothing to do with the fact that Will hadn't slept properly in days and his nerves felt raw.

And now he stood inside of Hannibal's room and wondered for the first time if he should have thought about this more carefully.

It was as if Hannibal had not been sleeping at all. Three in the morning and Hannibal jumped out of bed like a man on a mission. It took Will a moment to realize that he probably thought it was the FBI Will had been referring to.

»I meant the pu-« Will started, right before his eyes got used to the darkness.

Hannibal was already standing. He looked annoyed – as much as Hannibal could ever look annoyed – upon the realization. Will wondered if his pulse had quickened, at the thought of being discovered by the FBI. He knew the danger wouldn't phase him, would excite him if anything. But perhaps he feared for their new, sedate life here.

The question only occupied the spaces in his mind for a second, however, because once Will looked down at Hannibal, he became aware that he, unexpectedly, was not wearing his usual pajamas.

»Christ!« Will covered his eyes with his hand. »Why aren't you wearing anything?«

»I prefer to sleep in the nude when I'm alone,« Hannibal answered nonchalantly, accent thicker than usual.

Will heard Hannibal walking through the room, picking out clothes to put on in a hurry. Will couldn't see anything anymore, but the pictures were already inside his head. He was sure they'd stay there for a long time.

»I'm aware that you are afraid of it, Will, but I promise that looking at my naked form won't make you turn to stone.«

It took Will's brain a moment to start working again.

»I'll... wait downstairs,« he said hastily and left the room before finishing the sentence.

»Yes,« he heard Hannibal say, voice growing fainter as Will hurried down the stairs. »That is probably a good idea.«

~ - ~

Hannibal refused to come even close to the living room before brewing coffee for himself and Will. Will was grateful for the concoction – he felt absolutely whacked by the lack of sleep.

Angelo was brave, even in pain. Will tried his best to calm her. And Hannibal did his best to calm Will.

It felt like a long time until the first pup was born.

Angelo began to care for her firstborn instantly, tore through the membrane sac surrounding it to let it breathe and ate the bloody placenta. It wasn't an appetizing sight, but it was fascinating to see how the small pup began orienting itself in this new world. The pup made its first sound – as if it wanted everyone to know that it was here now and not leaving anytime soon.

Angelo washed the little one with her tongue until its fur was almost as white as her own. The father must have been something like a border collie, Will thought, too surprised to do anything but watch. The tiny snout and paws were deep red from blood circulation, the little eyes still closed and after its first, unsure sound more whimpers followed. Angelo dragged it around, cleaned it up and chewed on the umbilical cord before the whelp was finally allowed to drink on one of her teats.

»They're so tiny.« Will sounded as overwhelmed as he felt.

He expected Hannibal to compare them to rats, or to not say anything at all. He was surprised to hear him say, »So they are,« instead, voice uncommonly warm.

There was nothing to help them with. Will felt out of place, as if something as marvelous as this was not supposed to be seen by him. Angelo didn't need him, because this was the easiest and most natural thing in the world.

They came more quickly after the first, hardly twenty minutes between them, until there were five, all of them healthy at first glance, each of them more beautiful than the next.

»I think there is another one in there,« Hannibal said after a while, patting down Angelo's abdomen.

»What-« Will started to say, panic already rising in his throat, desperately searching his brain for the information he had read upon. Hannibal hushed him with a single look.

»We wait.«

It took almost two hours until the last one came into the world. It was smaller and darker than the others, but it was alive. A heavy weight fell from Will's heart in relief.

Will took the puppies out of the box and changed the sheets while Hannibal took Angelo out for a quick walk. Once he had brought her back he disappeared into the kitchen to make breakfast, leaving Will alone with the new family.

Will was happy when Angelo ate a little before continuing to care for her whelps. Will made sure all of them were warm and had a teat to suck on. A few of the puppies had already taken a break from drinking and were happily snoozing. Angelo had closed her eyes as well, recovering from her endeavor. She looked incredibly skinny already. Will petted her head a few times, before he leaned back himself, letting the strain fall off his shoulders.

Hannibal brought breakfast on two trays and they ate silently, watching the dogs. Will was prepared to notice any sign of uneasiness.

An hour passed in peace, before one of the puppies began to whine as if in need of something. It was the youngest one. Will couldn't determine the problem. It wasn't hungry, it was neither cold nor warm. He looked at Hannibal questioningly. He took the pup from Will and considered it for a while, turning it this way and that.

And then it became obvious why the little one had been so troubled.

Will remembered reading that the mother encouraged bowel movement in the first few days through her licking. He wanted to warn Hannibal, but it was already too late. The discharge was audible - an unfamiliar and almost comical sound.

Will was shocked. The man next to him was no other than Hannibal Lecter, after all. Who knew how he would react to something like that?

When Will looked at him, however, his reaction was different from what he had expected.

Hannibal looked shocked, utterly and ridiculously surprised. It was the perfect picture: Hannibal with bed hair, unshaven and sleepy, his expression unguarded. His humanity was undeniable. Will laughed – a throaty, honest sound.

He couldn't remember when he had last laughed like that. With Molly, probably. It fit her, this laugh, and he wouldn't have imagined it possible to laugh this way in Hannibal's presence, not anymore. How long had it been since Hannibal had heard such a laugh from him? Will faintly remembered a motel room in Minnesota, scrambled eggs and the first of many teacup metaphors. Hannibal looked like he too felt it had been too long. He smiled, the puppy in his hands momentarily forgotten. Will wondered if he would save this moment in his memory palace, if he would try to retrieve this sound again and again.

A sudden tension between them as their gazes met. Will knew what it meant, felt it down to his bones. The urge to kiss Hannibal, to be close to him, undeniable now, because the affection they felt toward each other in this moment, this domestic little moment, seemed to be infinite.

He averted his gaze instead, smiling coyly, and took the dog out of Hannibal's hands to give it back to its mother. It had stopped squealing.

»You should go wash your hands,« Will said, a little embarrassed. He felt a blush on his neck.

Hannibal gave him a quick peck on the cheek before he got up. Will still felt it burning on his skin, minutes after he had gone.

When Hannibal came back, he sat a little closer to Will, legs almost touching. They looked at each other for a while, but this time it was Hannibal who turned his head away first. He looked oddly contented.

And in this moment everything made sense.

Will dropped his head on Hannibal's shoulder. »You are the worst,« he said and closed his eyes.

»What makes you say that all of a sudden?«

»You planned this. No way in hell you wouldn't have noticed she was pregnant. And the pups... they're mongrels, but they would still sell very well. No dog owner would have given her away at that point.«

Hannibal didn't reply. It was as good a confirmation as any.

»You did it to please me, didn't you? Because you just knew how happy it would make me.«

»Yes.«

For a moment Will was inclined to leave it at that. To ignore all other questions and accept this as the gift it was intended as.

»What did you do to the owner, Hannibal?« he breathed, so quietly that he wasn't sure Hannibal had heard him until he answered.

»I searched for a dog and I found her. The owner wanted to sell the whelps and was looking for interested people beforehand. I was more interested in the mother, but of course he wouldn't sell. I didn't plan to kill him, I was searching for alternatives.«

»And then we slept with each other.«

»Yes.« Hannibal shifted uncomfortably. »I took no pleasure from killing him, if that comforts you. I was... upset.«

»Whimsical. Wouldn't have thought that you knew the feeling of being upset.« The knowledge that Hannibal had killed again left Will strangely cold.

»I didn't, before I knew you. Like so many other things.«

A few heartbeats of silence.

»You deceived me,« Will said, no anger in his voice. »I really thought your anger was genuine when I told you she was female. You are an excellent actor. And you manipulated me into saying exactly what you wanted me to say, didn't you?«

»I _was _angry. But not for the reasons you believed I was. I was angry with myself, for allowing you to do what you did. It was hardly your fault. You just did what I told you to – to follow your instincts and to stop analyzing so much, while in fact you should have thought about it more thoroughly. It had a savage beauty, what you did. You, egoistically taking what you wanted, what you needed in that moment. But it didn't free you from your fear. It made matters worse. And ultimately it was a mistake.«__

__Hannibal gave his words room to breathe before he continued speaking, »I'd like to see you unchained again, Will, as you were when we killed the Dragon.«_ _

__Will knew Hannibal wanted him to say something, but Will found he didn't have the energy for it. It was wrong to have that discussion now, in front of something as beautiful as Angelo and her newborn pups._ _

__»Do you still want to watch me kill?« Hannibal asked then, uncertain._ _

__»You said that killing the owner didn't satisfy you. Would it have been better if I had been there with you?«_ _

__»Probably not in that particular moment,« Hannibal guessed. »But overall I'd say yes.«_ _

__Will sighed. »Then we go ahead with the plan.«_ _

__Will caught himself getting drowsy. His breathing became slower and deeper._ _

__»Do you want to lie down for a while?« Hannibal asked quietly. »I can take over if you want me to.«_ _

__»I think I'll manage,« Will murmured, snuggling up closer to Hannibal._ _

__It felt too good to leave voluntarily, despite their conversation – Hannibal's all-familiar warmth and scent, the slurping and squeaking of the whelps. Will didn't want to return to the silence and cold of his own bed. He didn't even want to move the few yards to the couch. He was happy staying here instead, leaning against Hannibal. It probably wasn't effective training to reward Hannibal for what he had done, but at the moment, Will hardly cared._ _

__Hannibal did not object. He laid his hand on top of Will's instead._ _


	16. Chapter 16

It was astonishing how fast the whelps grew up, changing every day. First the ears opened, then the eyes and it seemed as if mere days had passed before they were running around the house, exploring and destroying everything they could reach.

It was exhausting, but rewarding. Will found little sleep on the couch in front of Angelo's lair, but it was worth it to see how rapidly the pups were growing up.

Hannibal ignored the events as well as he could. After the puppies didn't need supervision at all times of the day anymore, he retreated into his study for large chunks of the day. To draw, Will assumed. If he came down, mostly in order to cook, he went straight to the kitchen and ignored all the expensive furniture the young dogs had ruined with paws and teeth. One of the whelps, the youngest one that had done its business on Hannibal's hand that first night, had taken a liking to Hannibal and followed him whenever he came to the first floor.

Will wondered if Hannibal had come to regret his gift by now.

He discovered the answer to that question one morning when Hannibal was out shopping in Hamburg. Will sneaked into his study to see what Hannibal had been working on these past couple of weeks.

Hannibal's visits to Hamburg were growing longer every time – he either needed some time away from the whelps or he was searching for a fitting victim – and so Will had enough time to look at his pictures without any haste.

Hannibal drew him a lot, that much Will had known before, but he had avoided studying his pictures too closely. Hannibal liked to draw nudes – and that was fine up until his own face – or another part of his body – stared back at him from the paper.

And Hannibal had drawn him in various states of undress – but never in a way Will found distasteful or embarrassing. Hannibal's drawings of him were almost tame. It was obvious that his focus was on Will's face. It was interesting to see through Hannibal's eyes how he had changed in the past months.

The oldest graphic showed an anguished man with deep circles under his eyes, recovering from the wounds of the fall. The more recent the pictures got, the brighter Will looked. He didn't look _happy_ , precisely, but more confident. Healthier, on some level, and better nurtured.

Will laid a hand on his stomach. He _had_ put on a little weight.

»Oh, screw you,« Will murmured to the absent Hannibal, not without amusement. »Whose fault is that?«

And then there was the picture Hannibal was working on at the moment. For a minute or two, Will could only stare at it.

It was Will himself, sitting cross-legged on the ground, with the puppies on his lap, some of them climbing up on him. Angelo was sitting beside him, watchful. Hannibal had drawn every single one of the six pups, and in great detail. Will could distinguish them from one another - the coat patterns and the differences in their bodily frames, things he would not have expected Hannibal to notice. And Will smiled in this picture, real and honest. He had never seen himself smile like that before: teeth showing and with his eyes, framed by laughter lines, looking fondly down at the whelps.

Will took a deep breath and put the pictures back into their rightful place, a slight tremble in his hands. He leaned back in Hannibal's chair, a strange stinging in his eyes.

~ - ~

»Enrico Ziegler.«

Hannibal spread out pictures over the table. They showed a long-haired man covered in tattoos, a few years younger than Will. Will looked at the individual pictures. Enrico Ziegler had a consistently nervous expression on his face.

Will looked up at Hannibal. »Who is he?«

»People call him Rico. He deals in cocaine. And he owns a few brothels.«

Will looked back at the pictures. »He's addicted.«

Rico, like many drug addicts, looked like he awaited death around every corner.

»To his own drug, yes,« Hannibal confirmed. »Most dealers are, unless they are very important. Makes him an easier target for us.«

To Will, who had worked in Homicide, he sounded like a small-timer. »Why didn't you choose one of the higher-ups?«

»Too dangerous. People would take notice.«

»Has he killed?« The crucial question.

»Strangled a prostitute not even two weeks ago. Other than that he prefers to keep his own hands clean. He has a hit man working for him.«

»Can I trust you with this?« Will looked Hannibal straight into the eye, voice almost threatening.

»Yes,« Hannibal promised, masked as usual.

»Give me some time to think about it.«

~ - ~

A little more than two months passed before the whelps were old enough to sell or gift away.

Marie and Wolfgang took two of them, after Hannibal's extensive persuasion. Will was grateful to know they had found a home with people he knew at least fleetingly, a place where it wouldn't be impossible to visit them, at some point in time.

Another two found new owners in strangers Will deemed reliable after they had brought their own dogs with them. It broke his heart to let them go after he had taken care of them for weeks.

There were only two left, then, two males – the one Will liked best, easy to train and very responsive, and the youngest one who generally obeyed only Hannibal's commands.

The thought of letting those two go as well was unendurable.

It had become quiet in the house again. The remaining pair of siblings still tussled around, but two were easier to control than six. Further destruction of the furniture was mostly prevented, and Hannibal showed his face more often as well.

But Will's mood deteriorated with each passing day. After he had approved of Hannibal's choice they had fixed an appointment for their trip to Hamburg – neither of them talked about the fact that it would be exactly a year since their battle against the Dragon then – and the closer the deadline came, the closer the farewell to the two remaining dogs.

They were eating dinner, a week from their appointed time, when Hannibal placed a translucent medication cup with a blue pill in front of Will.

»What is this?« Will asked without much enthusiasm. His already bleary mood plummeted further even before Hannibal answered.

»Tenofovir disoproxil and emtricitabine.«

Will looked at him questioningly.

»A drug that helps prevent HIV infection,« Hannibal said.

Will opened his mouth, found no words and closed it again.

»For our trip to Hamburg,« Hannibal explained. » You can't be too careful with drug dealers.«

»HIV must be a real problem for your eating habits.« It came out emotionless.

Hannibal shook his head softly. »Eating the organs is mostly safe. The virus can't sustain itself outside of the body for long and high temperatures will destroy its DNA. But we'll have to be prepared for the killing to get messy.«

Will felt empty as he swallowed the pills.

»So,« Hannibal said after they had spent a while quietly eating their dessert. »I was thinking... Botticelli for the one you adore so much, and Blake for the one that can't seem to leave me alone.«

It took Will's brain a moment to make the jump from the pill he had taken to what Hannibal had said. He grinned broadly once he understood.

»Sounds great.«

~ - ~

Will slept in his own room again, but without the fussing of the dogs, his nights got worse. Rico followed him into his dreams.

He dreamed of different scenarios, but one picture had established its permanent home in Will's skull: a panicked glance from coked up eyes, seeking help from Will while Hannibal gave Rico the finishing touch. Blue eyes that stared at him, that thought Will was there to save him, that thought Will was better than the monster next to him. Will knew he wasn't.

He retreated earlier now, tossed and turned in bed for hours, and only dropped off when the sun was already rising – greeted by a fitful, nightmare-filled sleep.

Will wondered when he had last slept through a whole night. The answer was uncomfortable: when he had shared the bed with Hannibal.

It was the night before the murder. Will had found a dog sitter earlier in the week, someone reliable who would take care of their little pack in their absence. The details of the plan robbed him of his sleep once more. It was 2am in the morning when he stood up to spent the night on the couch, surrounded by the soothing presence of the dogs.

On his way downstairs he noticed that Hannibal's door was closed. Unusual. He left the door ajar, normally, to be able to hear every little noise in the house.

It was only a passing thought, however. Will was too tired to worry about shut doors.

The living room was pleasantly warm. Angelo and Botticelli lay cuddled together on the rug in front of the fireplace and didn't even raise their heads when Will entered the room.

It was not until Will took a look around the room that he realized one of the dogs was not with the others. Blake lay on Hannibal's lap; he had fallen asleep in his armchair.

Will studied that picture for a moment. It reminded him of one of their earlier encounters – Hannibal, in a similar pose next to Abigail's hospital bed, her hand in his, her blood still on his sleeve. It seemed impossible to sleep in that position – upright and with crossed legs. Blake lay rolled up on Hannibal's lap, happily shedding fur onto his expensive clothes.

Will cocked his head and came closer, absorbing the sight as if it was a precious painting. He felt the urge to touch, to confirm with another one of his senses that this was truly real. He sought a connection.

It was probably dangerous to wake him up like that, but Will couldn't help but graze Hannibal's face, utterly relaxed in sleep. It was the first time, Will realized, that he had touched it. He liked how Hannibal's soft brows felt under his fingertips.

Hannibal stirred beneath his seeking fingers and leaned into the touch, eyes still closed. In this moment he was made of glass – transparent and easy to break. Will knew that Hannibal would let him tear his heart from his breast if he so chose. Instead, he let his hand wander over Hannibal's high cheekbones, over the short stubble on his face and, lastly, over the inviting curve of his mouth.

Hannibal opened his lips and let Will explore the edges of his sharp teeth. Dangerous and intimate. His tongue licked greedily over the skin of Will's fingertip. It extracted a low sound from Will's throat and made his cock twitch in sudden excitement. Hannibal sucked on his finger and Will allowed him, just for a few seconds, before he pulled his finger from Hannibal's mouth.

Will leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss. Hannibal moaned softly and relaxed. It made Will smile.

Blake had woken in the meantime. He gave air to his grievances with a growl and jumped off of Hannibal's lap to find a better place to sleep. The thought of taking his place was strangely compelling.

»Let's go to bed,« Will said instead. He hadn't meant to, but even to him it sounded like there was a hidden promise in his words.

Hannibal opened his eyes slowly and looked at him with a piercing gaze. Will felt heat in his cheeks.

»Just... sleeping,« he clarified, still smiling. »Just lying next to each other.«

_Just feeling your warmth and the hardness of your muscles and your awful, protective arms around me, _he didn't say.__

__Will took Hannibal's hand and pulled on it until he stood up. Hannibal took a step forward, brought their bodies flush together, embraced Will with one arm and kissed him again, this time a lot less innocently. There would have been enough time to avoid him, had Will wanted to, but he didn't. He let himself be kissed and melted into Hannibal, their bodies perfectly aligned. The tips of their tongues met for the first time and Will felt it down into his toes, felt his heart hammer in his chest, surely nearing detonation. He was glad Hannibal's embrace kept him upright._ _

__»Okay,« he said sheepishly. Hannibal looked like a sleepy lion. Tame at the moment and yet feral by nature. His gaze bored into Will, tempting him to just discard his clothes and jump him like an animal. He swallowed thickly._ _

__»Just sleeping,« he repeated, breathless but with emphasis, trying to convince not only Hannibal, but himself._ _

__Hannibal let his arm fall to the side, but their fingers were still linked together. Will turned around and dragged Hannibal with him. On their way up the stairs, Hannibal began to recite something in his tired, scratchy voice. Will didn't know the words, but he knew it was Italian, and probably Dante. He recognized the word 'amor'._ _

__Will chuckled. »Could you be more pretentious, Hannibal?«_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with gorgeous art from the-sea-voices!
> 
>  
> 
> If you’re interested in what Hannibal recites:
> 
>  _Amor, ch'a nullo amato amar perdona,_  
>  Mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,  
> Che, come vedi, ancor non m'abbandona.  
> Amor condusse noi ad una morte.  
> \- Dante Alighieri, La Divina Commedia / Inferno / Canto 5
> 
> Which means:
> 
>  _Love, that exempts no one beloved from loving,_  
>  Seized me with pleasure of this man so strongly,  
> That, as thou seest, it doth not yet desert me;  
> Love has conducted us unto one death.  
> \- translated by Henry Longfellow


	17. Chapter 17

Will woke as he had fallen asleep: with Hannibal's bodily warmth against his back and with arms that trapped him in their possessive embrace. He woke with a feeling of contentment.

Hannibal breathed against his neck, deeply, in and out, but Will knew he wasn't asleep any more. He was currently building a new room in his memory palace, a room filled with this event, another room filled with Will. It was easy to imagine: the curves of Will's body pressed against him, the sounds Will made when asleep and his smell when he was free of fear and worry. Will sighed softly, calling Hannibal's attention to the fact that he had awoken.

Hannibal pulled him closer in answer, as if he was afraid Will would try to leave now that he was in his right senses again. Will didn't want to leave. He had wanted to sleep next to Hannibal yesterday and he wanted it now – and he would probably want it again tonight.

Will stretched against Hannibal to express his sense of well-being and only then did he start to feel a little strange. They weren't naked – Will wore a shirt and his boxers and Hannibal had had the presence of mind yesterday to put on pajamas before falling into bed – but it was still extremely intimate. They had shared space and warmth and breath as they had done before – but this time, Hannibal was still there upon waking.

Will turned around in Hannibal's arms and was met by dark, endlessly loving eyes. He could hold that gaze for only a few seconds.

»Hey,« Will murmured, smiling shyly.

Hannibal smiled back. »Good morning. Did you sleep well?«

»Better. When your snoring let me.«

Hannibal's smile widened until his teeth were showing. »You were the one who dragged me to bed, Will.«

»You're imagining things,« Will said with playful concern. »You must have been dreaming.«

»That _would_ explain a lot.« Hannibal’s lips brushed Will's forehead. »Perhaps I'm still dreaming.«

Will pinched his arm.

»Or perhaps not,« Hannibal purred against Will's temple.

Will closed his eyes again. It felt good to start the day in a light-hearted way for a change.

»Are you ready for the day to come?« Hannibal asked after a while. »Or do you want to stay in bed with me?«

»Don't know which is worse,« Will teased, but it came out half-heartedly. Hannibal's proposal sounded compelling, even if it was impossible. He didn't want to think about the day to come.

»You wanted this, Will.«

Will sighed. »Guess we'll have to push on with it now.«

Another few, peaceful seconds before Will squirmed out of Hannibal's grasp. He tried to hide it, but it was obvious that Hannibal did not want to let him go.

»I'd better let the dogs out,« Will said. Even to himself it sounded like an excuse to be alone with his thoughts.

~ - ~

The drive to Hamburg was tense.

Will felt bad about leaving Angelo and her pups in a stranger's care. The man would stay until tomorrow, in case their endeavor took longer than expected.

Hannibal was unflappable, almost distressingly happy. He had prepared lunch and coffee to go and wore one of his most ridiculous suits – a horrible thing with a bright, checkered pattern in yellow, green and purple colors – that was more ostentatious and snobbish than most of his wardrobe. Will wondered if he liked the risk or just the thought of dark, red stains on this suit.

»I always thought that presentation was the most important thing to you, even above eating them,« Will said. »Elevating your murder to art.«

Hannibal shot him a quick glance. »I'm afraid that will be impossible for now.«

»Do you think it'll satisfy you anyway?«

»It's not a _need_ , Will.«

»It's an urge. You want to kill just as a painter wants to paint. Without the tableaux it's like burning the picture right after finishing it.«

»It will suffice,« Hannibal said evasively. He sounded unsure. »Do you want to go over the plan again?«

Will knew by now that tension made him rude. If he continued speaking he would say something he'd regret. »No.«

After a few minutes of silence Hannibal turned on the radio. The music station played 'True Colors' by Cyndi Lauper. Will could see Hannibal grinning from out of the corner of his eye and was glad he didn't say anything.

They stayed silent for the remainder of the trip.

~ - ~

They reached the 'Reeperbahn' early in the afternoon. It was a stormy day, and even in a busy part of Hamburg such as this the streets were almost deserted. The homeless roamed the streets like shadows – they would be replaced with sightseeing tourists in a few hours, drawn to the seediness of the 'Kiez'.

Hannibal had arranged a meeting with Rico in a rundown hotel – he had come into contact with a lot of shady people in the last few weeks. Now his preparations would pay off – Rico was supposed to sell him drugs, unable to ignore the smell of fresh money.

Will was hit by a sense of foreboding and a wave of bad feelings as soon as he exited the car in the nearby parking lot. He swallowed thickly, trying to calm himself.

The trunk of the car was closed and then Hannibal stood next to him - a big, silver suitcase in his right hand and black, opaque sunglasses over his eyes.

»You look...« Will began with a shake of his head, but was unsure how to finish the sentence. Prison had made Hannibal pale and the past year hadn't changed that much – yet with the bright suit he still looked as if he belonged on a tropical island for the rich and beautiful and not in a place like this.

»...out of place,« Will decided.

»Good.« Hannibal smiled. Will couldn't tell if it reached his eyes. »That's exactly what I was aiming for.«

It was about time to enter the building, but for a long moment neither of them moved. There was something in the air, an anticipation that Will couldn't quite place. They looked at each other and Will was almost angry that he couldn't see Hannibal's eyes. It was irritating.

»What is it?« Will asked, arching an eyebrow. »Are you waiting for me to kiss you?«

Hannibal continued to smile. »Not waiting, no. Distantly hoping, perhaps.«

Will looked at Hannibal's lips and was flooded with vivid memories. Not only how they _felt_ beneath his own, but what they made him feel: the peace and quiet he had found in Hannibal's arms in the past couple of months. His body seemed to want it, especially now, presented with a future that was rocky at best.

Will turned to Hannibal and moved closer. Hannibal's smile widened for a second before it disappeared. Will's lips hovered over Hannibal's for a long, torturous moment before he granted him the longed-for contact.

He had planned to kiss him only briefly, but as soon as Hannibal's soft mouth touched his own it was impossible to stop. It felt too good, too safe, too familiar. Will wanted to dissolve the tension between them. And strangely enough, Hannibal let him.

He didn't know how it happened because it happened so quickly. As if someone had lit a matchstick and burned him alive. He would bear the scars like Chilton. He would live.

Suddenly, almost involuntary, his lips opened invitingly and Hannibal, who had been too reserved for too long, did not hesitate for a second before he claimed his mouth like a man who had spent three years in prison without company. His tongue explored Will's mouth with greed and zeal, sending constant sparks of prickling lust though his body. A high-pitched sound escaped him as Hannibal rammed him against the side of the car with his full body weight, his hands on Will's hips, clutching, grasping, taking, taking, _taking_ and giving back so much in return.

It might be their last kiss, Will realized. If things went wrong he wouldn't have the opportunity to do this again. If things went right... who knew how he'd feel about Hannibal after. This knowledge woke a despair inside of him that made him want to savor the moment even more.

Will had enough presence of mind not to ruin Hannibal's hair, even though he would have liked to bury his fingers in it. He dug them into his neck instead, using his nails to drag him closer, welcomed the lambent flames burning him from the inside out. A deep sound was pulled from Hannibal's throat and vibrated through Will's body. Will thrust his pelvis forward in search of closeness and friction, enjoyed the hard resistance he encountered and didn't fight the languorous, eager moan that built up inside him and lost itself in Hannibal's mouth.

Hannibal's grip on his hip got stronger. And then, suddenly, Hannibal pulled away, separated their connection and bowed his head against Will's shoulder. His breaths came in quick succession, just like Will's.

»I should go for 'out of place' more often,« he whispered in a thick voice.

Now Will was glad that he couldn't see Hannibal's eyes. They allowed each other a few additional seconds in their tight embrace, breaths calming. Will considered trying to convince Hannibal to drive home again right now to spend the rest of the day in bed after all. He knew it wouldn't change anything.

»Let's get it over with,« Will murmured against Hannibal's body, still pinned by his against the car.

Hannibal side-stepped, making room for Will that he really didn't want to have, and picked up the forgotten suitcase. Will let cold, stormy city air fill his lungs to clear his head. He shivered. He craved the fresh forest air around their house. He craved the sounds the trees would make right now, swaying in the strong wind. He craved the warmth of the fireplace and of the dogs and of the food and of Hannibal.

Hannibal gently stroked his back, forcing him to return to reality once more.

»Come on,« Hannibal said, as if nothing had happened.

~ - ~

The receptionist did not even look at them twice. _He'd better_ , Will thought - the money inside the suitcase was meant to be his bribe, after all. If everything went right.

The door to the room where they'd arranged to rendezvous was open. Hannibal went in first, but it was empty. Rico was not on time. The room was plain, but badly kept – stains on the mattress of a bed too small for two people to lie comfortably in, an overflowing trash can and wallpaper that had seen better days. Will stayed close to the dirty window and fixed his eyes on the door. Hannibal stood in front of him, farther away than he usually did these days. They didn't talk while waiting. Will tried not to think about the kiss and failed.

When the door opened at last, the drug dealer entered, accompanied by a hulk of a man. In reality, Rico appeared even more agitated than his pictures had suggested. He looked around the room frantically, awaiting an ambush.

Will had not anticipated the presence of a bodyguard and Hannibal had not talked about the possibility. It seemed incredibly stupid in hindsight. Will was sure that the giant had a weapon on him.

»You got the money?« Rico asked, taking a hesitant step forward. He had a hard time pronouncing the 'th' correctly.

»Yes.« Hannibal showed him the case.

Rico looked at the aluminum suitcase with greed in his eyes, before staring at Hannibal. He did not recognize him. Then he looked over to Will. His gaze got stuck on the scar on his cheek.

Their eyes met and they knew each other.

Rico's eyes flew back to Hannibal and he took a step backwards. Will heard him say »Scheiße«, one of the few German words he recognized, and then Hannibal's name in a weird pronunciation. Will's stomach turned. Hannibal didn't give Rico the chance to say more. From the corner of his eye Will saw him dashing forward, toward the bodyguard, who was about to draw his weapon.

For a few seconds, Will was frozen on the spot. Then he saw Rico whipping out a knife, facing Hannibal. He had made the mistake of thinking of Hannibal as the sole danger in the room. Will cursed under his breath before he intervened.

He lunged at Rico, tackled him and brought him to the floor. The dealer barely had any brawn and was easy to overpower, but he still had a sharp blade in his hand.

As he struggled to keep Rico down, Will heard something slither across the ground. He hoped that Hannibal had succeeded in disarming the bodyguard.

But he could not concentrate on Hannibal, for Rico was trying with all his might to regain the upper hand, to stretch his arm far enough to ram his knife into Will's flesh. They rolled on the floor until Will managed to pin the drug dealer down by pressing his weight onto him, straddling him. Will heard the too-familiar sound of a neck being broken at the same time he broke one of Rico's fingers to take the knife from his hand. Rico screamed in panic and pain – a sound that Will knew would haunt his dreams.

His left hand squeezed the air from Rico's throat. Rico was like a wild, trapped animal, full of panic. He tried to hurt Will as best as he could, ramming his brittle, chewed-off nails into his arm until Will bled from it. Will raised the arm with the knife, ready to end it – when he noticed another hand stayed him from the execution.

Will risked a glimpse to the side. Hannibal knelt next to him, slowly prising the knife from Will's hand. A fleeting image appeared in Will's mind: the moment in which he had wanted to shoot Peter Bernardone's social worker and Hannibal had prevented him from doing so. Will relinquished his grip in increments until Hannibal could take the blade from his hand and place it out of reach.

»Strangle him. Less blood,« Hannibal said calmly over Rico's grunts of stressed, desperate resistance. »Give him some of his own medicine.«

Will pressed his other hand around his victim's throat as well. Rico clawed at him, broke more skin, buried his dirty fingers in Will's flesh, one of them sticking out uselessly at the side. Will saw pain in his eyes and the rush of adrenaline, evoked by this last battle. Will wasn't sure who was trembling – Rico or himself.

Hannibal put a hand on his back. The soothing warmth of Hannibal's palm soaked through Will's shirt and spread through his body. Will took a deep breath.

»Like this«,« Hannibal murmured and put his remaining hand on top of Will's, adjusted its position and strengthened the pressure. His hand stayed on top of Will's when Rico's pained noises grew louder at first and then fainter.

Will thought about Abigail – bloody, almost-dead Abigail, lying on the floor of her father's house. He thought about Hannibal, who had pushed his trembling hand aside to save her life, only to take it away again later with the very same hands. And now they were killing together.

»Beautiful,« Hannibal whispered, but it wasn't. It wasn't like Dolarhyde, not a melting act of mutual rescue. It wasn't a fight for survival; not the desperate hunt of two wolves tackling bigger prey.

It wasn't like the birth of Angelo's pups; not the gift of life Hannibal had made him as a token of love.

This was cold blooded, emotionless murder. The taste of triumph was stale in relation to the horror Will felt.

Will imagined he could feel Hannibal's slow pulse on top of his own, frantic one. His heart beat so fast and loud that he couldn't hear anything else – neither the miserable, small sounds Rico made, nor Hannibal's rhythmic, calming words.

The blue, hazy eyes lost their shock. Tension faded and then every emotion was gone. Only a mask remained. Will barely noticed Rico's arms falling down heavily and uselessly. He was lost in those strange eyes. He only came back to himself when he heard his name repeated several times, felt a hand drawing small circles on his skin.

»He's dead,« Hannibal said and it sounded strangely final.

It was physically exhausting to look away from the corpse and meet Hannibal's warm gaze. He had lost his sunglasses in the battle, but seemed to be unharmed. He looked so horribly proud and happy that Will wanted to strangle him as well. But he couldn't – he had thrown away the privilege of being able to kill Hannibal and he had done so willingly: through his surrender, through giving in to the irrepressible feelings for this man in whom the monster had slumbered for months. Trapped by Will, tamed even, but free again now to roam the earth.

He couldn't kill him and he would never be able to try again. Still Will lunged for him, pushed him back onto the carpet, pressed his full weight on him to hold him down, the dead body a dull resistance against his legs.

It couldn't be called a kiss. Will felt Hannibal's sharp teeth against his own and only pressed harder against him. His hectic fingers found their way to his belt, pulled and tore and he didn't care that he spread blood – his own blood – on the expensive, ugly suit. He had not yet succeeded in opening the belt when he felt Hannibal's hand on his wrist – holding him tight like a vise.

Will pulled away and looked at Hannibal. The man beneath him didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke of rejection.

»You're like a teenage boy testing boundaries,« he said before letting go of Will's wrists.

»Maybe you should fault your parenting.«

Hannibal clicked his tongue. An unfamiliar sound.

»Have you been a better father, Will? Was it good parenting to leave your son behind?« he asked, eager to find a way of hurting Will.

Will's voice grew cold. »You made me choose. Don't make me regret my decision.«

They looked at each other heatedly for a moment before Hannibal gave in.

»I understand that you are frustrated, Will-«

»This,« Will interrupted and gesticulated to the dead man behind them, »was not how it was supposed to go. This was not my design. I made you that offer because you _needed_ to kill, and you rejected it. You knew that he would bring a bodyguard. You knew I would be the one killing Rico. You just can't stop playing mind games with me.« His voice grew unsteady at the end and he hated it.

»Seeing you kill is much more satisfying than doing it myself. So is killing together with you.«

»Great. Remember that when you push me right off the edge,« Will growled. »After my own attempt at it has failed.«

»Will...«

»I don't understand you, Hannibal. You worked on this,« Will started and pointed between them, »for months! And now you are willing to throw it all away by forcing me into something that I am not ready to do with you yet. You build up and you destroy, over and over again. Do you still want to wind me up and watch me go? Is that what love is to you?«

»Is this what love is to you?« Hannibal asked and looked down at his blood-smeared suit, the red fingerprints on his belt. »Satisfaction of your bodily needs before everything else?«

Hannibal grabbed Will’s crotch as if to substantiate his allegation. Will made a startled sound, flinched away and moved into the touch at the same time. It was simultaneously salvation and torture. His moan resembled a sob.

»No,« he croaked out and Hannibal let go, put his arms around him instead and pulled him close to his chest.

»No,« he echoed.

Will wanted to cry and scream and sob some more, but he couldn't do anything. He allowed himself to simply close his eyes, to concentrate on Hannibal's powerful heartbeat and tried to calm himself. Hannibal embraced him with one arm and put the other on the back of Will's head, pressing him tightly to his body, into his warmth and into his familiar smell. His breath came slowly and steadily, meant as a guide for Will, and he cradled Will very gently in his strong arms. It shouldn't feel soothing to be held by a monster, but for Will it did. It did.


	18. Chapter 18

Will washed the blood off his arms in the adjoining, musty hotel bathroom, while Hannibal prepared the bodies for transportation. The wounds weren't deep, but quite extensive, and Will longed for the disinfectants he knew were lying in the car. He was glad, all of a sudden, that Hannibal had made him swallow the pills.

He stayed in the bathroom a bit longer than he needed to; let the water run to fill his head with sounds other than his thoughts. Will felt a throbbing in his head; he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was protruding out of his skull. His reflection in the mirror looked manic, but there weren't any antlers.

He couldn't go insane, not yet. There were things to do first. He would allow himself later, at home.

Carrying two corpses instead of one to the car proved to be a complicated task - Rico barely weighed anything, even rolled into a carpet. But his bodyguard was double his size and thrice as heavy and Will was glad when both bodies were stored away safely in the trunk of the car.

He cleaned his wounds while Hannibal delivered the money. It was unpleasant to be left alone with the dead - even more unpleasant than being with Hannibal, whom he could barely look in the eyes at the moment, after their embrace.

»He recognized me.« Will laid his head back against the seat once Hannibal was back, glad to hear the starting motor that promised they'd be gone soon.

»That was unfortunate,« Hannibal said, voice calm as if it were something one shouldn't waste any thoughts on.

»No. He recognized me by my scar. How could he have known?«

Hannibal glanced at him. »I did not tip him off, if that is what you believe.«

»Have you checked Tattle Crime in the last few days? Maybe Freddie got new information, somehow.«

Hannibal's gaze left the street once more as he brushed Will's leg with his fingertips, watching for his reaction. Will didn't object. Hannibal laid his hand flat on Will's thigh. A soothing, additional weight. His hand was like a foundation, saving him from suffering through a panic attack. Will tried to breathe – deep and even, deep and even.

»Ms. Lounds did not post anything other than her usual speculations. If the FBI knew about our whereabouts we would be aware by now,« Hannibal said reassuringly. »It is much more likely that it was simply an unfortunate coincidence. Rico was paranoid and his drug use only reinforced that paranoia. It is not improbable that he had well-founded knowledge of the world's most wanted criminals. He lived with the constant fear that one of them would eventually come to get him.«

Will laughed joylessly. »Is it still paranoia if your greatest fear comes true?«

Hannibal's thumb stroked his skin through the fabric of his jeans. »Don't worry, Will,« he said. »I promise you that we are fine.«

Will lowered himself deeper into the seat and ignored the impulse to spread his legs a little more to make it easier for Hannibal to touch him. He wondered at what point it had become so normal to be touched by him, so desirable.

»Do you want to talk about what happened?« Hannibal asked.

»Later. Give me a few hours to let it sink in.«

Will turned on the radio, unwilling to let silence envelop them. He cranked back the seat and closed his eyes again. The exposure to noise helped, just like the constant movement of Hannibal's fingers on his thigh. Will tried to relax, but it worked only partially.

»I'm not going to help you with this,« Will clarified as Hannibal parked on their driveway after a long, uneventful ride. »You can butcher them up all you want. I don't care which parts you take, I don't care what you put in my food. But you're going to be the one dragging the... remaining parts through the woods to bury them.«

Hannibal turned off the motor and stayed seated for a moment. »You should take the dogs out for a nice, long walk,« he finally said. »It would help you calm down.«

»I know what would help me calm down,« Will murmured as he exited the car, quietly enough that Hannibal couldn't hear him. »And it's not a fucking walk.«

~ - ~

A walk with the dogs helped, of course.

Angelo, freed of her big belly, scooted through the woods, showing her whelps the interesting parts of the forest and teaching them what to stay clear of. Will had enough time, quiescence and distance from Hannibal to think about their murder and analyze what had gone so horribly wrong.

He was glad that Hannibal had sent him away. The experience of dissecting a human being wasn't unknown to him, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see Hannibal do it. Will remembered him sitting in the back of an ambulance, hands buried deep inside a man – not to kill, but to save a life. Will liked that picture. He didn't want to erase it via a similar one.

Even hours after the incident, his heartbeat hadn't settled.

»A low heart rate is a true indicator of one's capacity for violence,« Hannibal had said once. Will tried to remember if his heart had beat as fast when they had slain the Great Red Dragon. It had, but for very different reasons than it had that evening.

Will couldn't find an answer. He didn't know what had happened. He knew Hannibal would tell him, if he asked – he would give him an answer that befitted his world view, an answer that would guide Will in the direction he wanted him to take. He meant well in his own, curious way, Will knew. Hannibal wanted Will to live without the concerns that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. It would be easier to go this way, to let Hannibal decide for him. But the metallic scent of innocent blood wafted from that direction and it made Will sick. Compromises were one thing – he could meet Hannibal halfway, at his own pace, but one thing was certain: Will didn't want to kill this way again.

He longed for the feeling he had had when he and Hannibal had killed Francis Dolarhyde together, as a team. What he had experienced today made it abundantly clear: he wanted _this_ kind of killing and no other. It was hard enough to admit to himself that he wanted any kind of murder in his life at all.

~ - ~

» _Saumagen_ , a German dish from the Palatinate. The name translates to 'sow's stomach' and it is exactly that: stuffed pig's stomach.«

Will glanced at the plate in front of him. Hannibal had elevated the food to art as usual and it looked too good to eat – two thick slices of meat, garnished with vegetables and sauce and black feathers.

»Not really a sow in this case, is it?«

Hannibal smiled and took his seat opposite Will.

Will took a long drink of his wine before he started cutting the meat. He felt Hannibal's shamelessly hungry gaze resting on him - he wouldn't start eating before he had consumed Will's reaction.

Will cut off a little chunk of the stomach and brought it close to his mouth. The spicy smell reached his nostrils. He looked Hannibal in the eyes when he put the fork into his mouth. A crispy consistency. He tasted potatoes and carrots and a ton of spices from which he could name only a few, even after a year with Hannibal. And he tasted the meat. Will savored it slowly.

He had sat in Hannibal's dining room so many times, unwittingly eating human flesh. And then he had done so wittingly, to trap Hannibal. And now it didn't bother him any more. He tolerated it.

It was almost a partnership, in which one would do what the other enjoyed to please him, not because of one's own enjoyment. And this right here, Will realized, wasn't a big sacrifice to make. It tasted good.

Will swallowed. Hannibal did, too, sympathetic, even though his mouth was empty.

»You chose it for the irony, like you often do, didn't you?« Will asked. »Sow's stomach. The dish, the term. Being able to digest any kind of food, no matter where it comes from. Having a... questionable taste. You just love those connotations.«

Hannibal took his first bite without answering. He closed his eyes for a moment. He had eaten one of Chilton's lips during his imprisonment and he had tasted Dolarhyde's blood – but it must have been over four years now since had last eaten human flesh in a prepared state.

When he opened his eyes again, he looked more determined. He took a sip of wine before he spoke. »We shouldn't do that again, Will.«

»Is it a matter of choice?« Will asked, honestly surprised that Hannibal had come to the same conclusion. »Are you able to just... stop after you started again?«

»It's something I want to do with you, but it's not a necessity. I wanted to see you as you were at your most beautiful. As happy and euphoric again as you were when we killed Francis. Happier still than you looked when Michelangelo bore her pups,« Hannibal explained. »You wanted to make me happy by letting me kill. And through my actions I wanted the same for you. But killing, as it turns out, is not something to be gifted, but to be shared and mutually enjoyed.«

Will leaned back in his chair, food momentarily forgotten. »Same with sex, isn't it?«

Hannibal cocked his head and looked at him, curious and hungry.

»You don't need it, but you think it'll... improve our relationship,« Will continued.

»If done correctly,« Hannibal said with a smile. »We didn't do it correctly.«

»So we are going into hiatus again? Don't tell me you want to quit doing it for good.«

Hannibal wet his lips with the tip of his tongue before he spoke again, »You are obviously still not prepared for it yet and after what we have shared I have no appetite for doing it alone anymore.«

Will had thought that Hannibal wouldn't stop killing after he had started doing it again. He recalled a similar exchange, one from months ago, Hannibal telling him that he wouldn't kill if Will didn't want him to. It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it? Perhaps he was in more control of the monster than he had previously assumed.

»What if I'll never be prepared?« he asked, wanting to prove his theory.

»I'm sure we'll get there eventually. I trust you'll come to me when the time arrives.«

Will didn't know how to answer. They merely stared at each other for a few seconds.

»The food is getting cold,« Hannibal said finally.

~ - ~

Will took a long, hot bath before going to bed, thinking of the events and conversations of the day. It didn't help him, for he lay sleeplessly in bed after.

It had been a mistake to sleep beside Hannibal last night, because now he couldn't get rid of the feeling that this was wrong. It didn't feel right to be alone, because he knew he'd be happier with Hannibal beside him, no matter what had happened today.

Will turned over and over. He thought about blue eyes, slowly going lifeless. He thought about the dinner, about the aftertaste that still lingered in his mouth, even though he had brushed his teeth until his gum had started to bleed. He thought about how Hannibal's tongue had entangled with his own.

...no matter what had happened today, indeed.

He stood up with a sigh.

The lights in Hannibal's room were still on. Will stood quietly in the doorway. For the first time, he was giving himself the opportunity to simply look at the man he had spent the last year with, just seeing him as people who met him on the streets would; people who didn't know he was Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal was reading. His dark eyes darted over the lines of his leather-bound book in concentration. The light of the lamp changed his face, made it seem younger and older at the same time.

Will examined the wrinkles on his forehead, the crow's feet next to his eyes, his hair - grayer every day – that lay freshly washed across his face and the silver stubble that had grown over the course of the day. Will paid attention to the scars that he had collected over the last few years: Jack's souvenir on his right cheekbone; the line beneath his chin, still red years after; Tobias Budge's memento on the bridge of his nose – or did he already have that scar before? Will couldn't remember.

Hannibal exuded grandeur and intelligence. It wasn't difficult to call his face attractive, despite all the characteristics of aging and his eventful life. The pajamas he wore looked domestic and cozy. He seemed more approachable in them – Will liked them better than his suits. An unknown feeling gripped Will. He felt the urge to move closer to Hannibal, to look deep into his eyes. They had become familiar now, his eyes, and yet they often seemed to change – a diverse color palette, from a caramel brown to a deep black and sometimes there even was a glimmer of red, as if it wasn't obvious enough that Hannibal was the incarnation of the devil himself.

Will still felt drawn to them. He wanted to know what color his eyes were at this very moment, how they would change when they saw him. Love, Will knew, made them shine brightly. They were intimidating, those eyes, and yet he craved to lose himself in them.

Hannibal's nostrils widened and he closed his book, laid it down on the nightstand and looked up, in no way surprised to see Will standing there.

»Is something the matter, Will?« he asked gently. Will saw the mischief in his eyes even from far away.

Will approached the bed slowly. It wasn't close enough.

»Get rid of your shirt,« Will said.

Hannibal looked up and searched Will's face for an intention. If he found something, it seemed to satisfy him, for he did as was asked of him without raising an objection. He unbuttoned his shirt at a leisurely pace, exposing his torso bit by bit and laid the shirt, carefully folded, next to the book on the nightstand when he was done.

It was the first time that Will had seen him shirtless in good lighting conditions. His gaze focused on that spot of graying chest hair he had laid on before. His cheek remembered with a slight tingle how that had felt. His nose brought back the scent of his skin and aftershave.

Something inside him wanted to feel repelled by this body, but there was nothing. It was strangely unimportant that Hannibal looked so different from the people he had been intimate with in the past. There were special standards for him, because he _was_ special – not only on the outside, but in every way imaginable. Hannibal was... Hannibal.

»Now lie down on your stomach,« Will commanded.

Hannibal hesitated, eyeing Will with suspicion.

»You trust me, remember?« Will asked with a grin that must have looked painful.

Their eyes met for a long moment before Hannibal did as he was told. He turned around, crossed his arms and laid his chin on his hands.

Will stepped closer. Hannibal's back was littered with scars – some small, some large, some from days long past and some only a few months old. He must have gotten them in the fall from the cliff, when he had pulled Will close and saved him from injury.

Will rolled back the blanket and sat down with a bounce on the rolled up bundle, over Hannibal's hips. He tucked his naked legs in the warm blanket and looked down at the uncovered skin beneath him, at the broad shoulders and the strong muscles submitting to him. Hannibal hadn't even asked for a reason. He was allowing Will to conquer him. It felt good, the trust. Will was grateful that Hannibal could still trust him, after all that had happened.

He had seen Mason Verger's brand in photographs during Hannibal's trial, but it had still been raw then. Now it was healed, only scar tissue left. Will couldn't help touching it, feeling out how distinct it was from the smooth skin around it.

»Let me guess,« Will said, laying his whole hand on it. »You think the worst part about it is that it's off-center.«

A small chuckle rolled through Hannibal's body, but he didn't answer.

Will's hand wandered upwards, to his shoulders. He could hear Hannibal swallow. Will felt the first waves of ecstasy, caused by the knowledge that he could influence Hannibal in this particular way. Power. It was an addictive feeling.

»I thought you might enjoy a massage after you dragged the corpses around and buried them all alone,« Will said, stroking Hannibal's skin lightly with the tips of his fingers.

»Is this your way of apologizing?« Hannibal asked. His accent was thicker already.

»Yes,« Will said quietly, continuing his work.

Will kneaded Hannibal's muscles beneath his fingers. He felt tension easing, encouraged blood flow. Hannibal was like a statue beneath him.

»I'm not sure I can do this thing with you,« Will admitted after a while.

»The killing or the sex?«

»Both, maybe,« Will said, unsure himself. »Your... aesthetic values are unlike my own.«

»Both of our values have changed.«

»You love beauty more than anything else. The way you lose yourself in composing or in drawing or in making artful dishes and murder tableaux... It's what gives your life meaning, what makes you _feel_ unlike anything else. I don't want to...« Will began and hated himself for thinking this way, »I don't want to take that away from you by forcing you to be considerate of me. That's not going to work in the long run. You can't endlessly wait for me to make my choice; it'll make you suffer, too.«

»Do you want me to continue killing, Will?«

»No,« Will answered, distraught. »I want you.... I want you to be happy.«

»Was my prison cell as marvelous as the house I used to own in Baltimore?«

»One could argue it was better than most prison cells.«

Hannibal exhaled deeply. »What about this house we share?«

Will knew what he wanted to say. »You compromised for my happiness.«

»Nothing is as beautiful as seeing you happy with who you are, Will, and nothing gives me more pleasure. _You_ make me feel more than anything else.«

Will wanted to dismiss his words but Hannibal continued. »And you have changed as well. Killing the Dragon with me was beautiful to you, too.«

»Killing Rico wasn't,« Will said.

»Our values _are_ different, but ever-changing. As I said, we'll figure out where they'll lead us. Together,« Hannibal said with confidence. »There is no rush, Will.«

Will licked over his dry lips. »Maybe... maybe we waited too long. Maybe we should have done this without thinking so much about it.«

»Are we still talking about killing?«

»No.«

Will continued kneading Hannibal's muscles for a while, without either of them speaking.

»Why have you come here?« Hannibal asked finally.

»I enjoy being close to you.«

Hannibal wasn't satisfied with that. »Why?«

»Because I...« Will started, but all possible answers led to the same conclusion.

_Because I ache for you, too._

»I...«

_Because I'm in love with you._

He wasn't ready to admit any of this, neither to himself nor to Hannibal. Will shook his head and tried a different approach.

»Because when I'm with you, a lot of extraneous noises... stop. I feel a pure new silence in the center of my mind, and a calm there. In a different place, down the front of me, I feel in flashes that I am a fool.«

»It's destroying you, Will. Your worries are burning you from the inside out,« Hannibal said and Will knew he was right. »You judge yourself with all the mercy of the dungeon scales at Threave; you'll have to earn it again and again, the blessed silence. Because it's the plight that drives you, seeing the plight, and the plight will not end, ever. I want to help you, as I have helped you with so many other things, but you have to let me. You have to work with me.«

A few seconds of silence.

»I want you to help me,« Will admitted in a whisper.

Hannibal turned over beneath him, lying on his back again. Even through the layers of the stacked up blanket, Will could feel his erection. It automatically drove hopeful heat into Will's face and loins.

»Do you trust me?« Hannibal asked quietly.

»No,« Will laughed. »Not entirely. Never entirely.«

Will sat up straight, unsure what to do with his hands. It was more difficult to talk when Hannibal looked at him. »It's hard to let go off my senses. I know myself best when I'm with you, Hannibal. And I don't necessarily like what I'm seeing.«

Hannibal touched him. A gentle, careful touch – just a fingertip on Will's leg. It was already too much. Hannibal seemed to try and stir something to life inside of Will, playing him like an instrument, and Will had no power to fight against it.

»I like what I'm seeing,« Hannibal murmured. It sounded dark. »You can't begin to understand how tempting you are right now, Will. Freshly bathed and reeking of barely suppressed lust and your ever-present anxiety. It's maddening.«

Hannibal's words brought color into Will's cheeks. He placed a hand on Hannibal's free arm. The fine, pale hairs on his skin felt smooth, but he could feel the strength beneath as well. His fingers wandered to the inside of Hannibal's forearm, tracing the scar Will had left there by proxy. Further down to his wrist, where he could palpate his pulse. It was quicker than usual, quicker than when he killed.

»I don't know how to do this without hurting you.«

»I can teach you. If you let me,« Hannibal offered. »Like dancing.«

Hannibal's hand reached for Will's and placed it on his chest, over his heart. The same quick rhythm. Their fingers intertwined.

»Yes?« Hannibal asked, knowing as much as Will that he had already won.

»Ask nicely.« It was supposed to sound impish, but it sounded desperate instead.

»I want to try this again with you, Will. Please?« Hannibal's expression was as smug as Will's must have been when he had asked Hannibal to cooperate with their plan to kill Francis Dolarhyde.

»Yes,« Will said, giving in.


	19. Chapter 19

Hannibal reached for Will's head with both his hands and Will bend forward to meet his searching fingers halfway. Hannibal caressed his lips, his cheeks, his ears and pulled him forward slowly, gentle enough that Will could have escaped had he wanted to.

Will was met with the softest of kisses, melting something inside of him. Maybe it was the last bit of his resistance. He put his hands on Hannibal’s chest to support himself, muscle and hair beneath his palms, and opened his mouth willingly to admit Hannibal. A shared, quiet moan filled the room when their tongues touched for the second time that day. It felt right, as if it was exactly what Will needed. A pleasant, warm tingle spread in the lower part of his stomach. 

»Earlier today... I thought it would be our last kiss,« Will said, breaking contact for a moment.

Hannibal's eyes were hazy. »What did that make you feel like?«

»Desperate. Afraid.« Will frowned. »I really like kissing you.« It slipped easily from his mouth.

»Come here,« Hannibal said, an edge to his voice now. »Let me taste you again.«

And Will let him taste, let him explore all he wanted, sinking deeper and deeper into their kiss, their embrace, their connection.

He rolled his hips tentatively back and forth, producing as much friction as the blanket between them would allow. It was a careful and almost nervous movement, unfamiliar and amateurish, but it still felt good. Hannibal sighed into the kiss, brought his hands from Will's face to his hips and moved Will with a powerful yank. Will grinned against his mouth, amused by his sudden licentiousness. He was enjoying this shared exploration of the way their bodies functioned together more than he wanted to admit to himself. 

Hannibal's hands found their way beneath Will's shirt. He touched his back hesitantly, with just the tips of his fingers and then, becoming more courageous but no less devout, his stomach and chest with his flat palm. Will was used to being touched by him by now, had learned to enjoy without questioning, and he allowed this even though it was new and unwonted. It was easy to compartmentalize the rest of his thoughts and focus only on processing the unpredictability of Hannibal's touch on his skin, translating it to pleasure. 

Will let Hannibal break their kiss again; let himself be freed from his shirt. He would have thought that Hannibal would look his fill first, but instead he kissed him again, hunger awakening.

»Tell me to stop if you need me to,« Hannibal murmured into his ear, his voice like honey. Stopping was the last thing Will wanted to do.

Before Will knew what happened he was lying on his back, Hannibal above him. Their eyes met. Will could see his desire to claim. It was strangely comfortable to recognize this inglorious feeling; to realize that under the facade, Hannibal wasn't nearly as calm as he would make believe. Will had not thought it possible for Hannibal to be unsure about anything, but here they were. It was… cute. 

Only a few weeks earlier Will would have panicked if Hannibal had pinned him down like this. He would have tried to push him away, unwilling and afraid to give up control, but now he didn't. It was an assurance. A warranty of trust, at least now, at least here. 

Hannibal pressed his lips against Will's and Will acquiesced. Will became aware that the blanket had got lost in the change of their positioning when Hannibal pushed his pelvis forward against Will. There was still clothing between them and yet Will's brain seemed to malfunction, rewarding him with a short and rare moment of pure pleasure. Hannibal's warm torso crowded him against the mattress and in this moment Will couldn't imagine that there was anything better than the sound of their kissing, Hannibal's quick breathing in his ear and the heat in his loins, burning up more and more.

Will put his arms around Hannibal's neck and pulled him closer still while their hips shifted of their own accord, searching for warmth and friction. It was good, way too good, and it felt horrible when Hannibal pulled away.

»We should slow down,« Hannibal said, breathing heavily. »I want to savor this. I want to savor you.«

Will made a disappointed, almost whining sound, every bit of restraint he had forgotten. He wanted this; he wanted more. He knew he could come like this - just from the friction between their still-clothed bodies and the slide of Hannibal's tongue in his mouth. He was impatient - it had taken too long to get to this point, and it felt so good, so right. But he gave in to Hannibal's demands, bathed in the sweet agony of delay.

Hannibal laid his head against Will's throat and for a while they just tried to calm their breathing - Hannibal with the intention of getting some of his wits back together, Will with the intention not to. Will adored the feeling of Hannibal's weight on top of him, shielding him from the outside world. In this moment there was only them and he didn't want to destroy the perception by starting to think again.

»Will you allow me to worship your body today, Will?« Hannibal asked finally, and the shape of his words felt like kisses against Will's neck.

»Y-Yeah,« Will answered, still breathless. He laughed nervously and felt his ears starting to grow hot.

Hannibal kissed him again, brief and tender, and wandered down Will's throat with these kisses to his right clavicle. He paid special attention to the faded scar there, stroking over the jagged line with his tongue. Will's blood pumped hectically through his veins and his eyes followed Hannibal's movement as much as his position allowed. Most of the time, he only saw his hair - he wanted to bury his fingers in it, determine if it was still damp from his shower, but he didn't have the courage. Just once did Hannibal look up - his gaze so full of love and finally fulfilled desire that for a moment Will's breath faltered from emotions picked up by his empathy.

If he hadn't known the extent of Hannibal's feelings before, he would have now. Next to the tingling heat in his stomach another feeling emerged - something in his chest that seemed to be a source of constant warmth. He wasn't sure if it was Hannibal's love or his own, but the emotion overtook him so abruptly and fiercely that it was hard to bear.

Will closed his eyes and leaned his head back, focused on what Hannibal was doing, not willing to let this end unsatisfactorily again. His hand searched for something to hold onto and wasn't sure what was suitable. Eventually, Hannibal's hand found his and squeezed it soothingly, holding onto it. 

»Shall I stop, Will?« Hannibal asked. He tried to keep the strain out of his voice. 

Will shook his head with force, kept his eyes closed.

»No,« he pressed out. »Please don't. I want this. I want... I want you.«

An admission that had taken a long time.

Hannibal smiled. »You _needed_ me for a long time, Will. And now I have given you enough liberty to make you realize that you _want_ me, too.«

Will bit his bottom lip, not able to process Hannibal's words appropriately. Hannibal squeezed his hand again before resuming his mapping of Will's body.

He kissed his way across Will's body to his armpit. He buried his nose in it, inhaling. A deep, animalistic noise vibrated through his body, as if he had never smelled anything better than Will. It made Will shiver and flushed away his doubts, his thoughts - everything that wasn't part of his arousal.

Hannibal left a wet, burning trail of saliva on Will's torso, from his shoulder to his chest. He kissed one of his nipples, tried to figure out if Will liked it or not. His free hand was busy touching the other, kneading it between his fingers. When Hannibal heard no complaint about his actions, he pressed his tongue against the sensitive skin. Will took in a sharp breath, which Hannibal seemed to regard as approval. He sucked on it gently, careful not to use his teeth. It was electrifying.

»Fuck,« Will said, clenching his free hand.

Hannibal was satisfied only when he had teased both his nipples to erection. He looked at the fruit of his labor for a while, pride in his eyes.

»Could you... just... go on?« Will asked, feeling embarrassed.

»Don't be shy, Will,« Hannibal requested. »You are a man. The only function your nipples possess is as an erogenous zone. It's natural for them to become stiff and erect under stimulation. And it's natural for you to feel pleasure when they are being touched.«

Hannibal pinched his left nipple. Will flinched, but it didn't feel uncomfortable.

»Or is it because of your inner fear of being pushed into a female role while having sex with a man?«, Hannibal asked, quietly and without any expostulation. »If that is the case then I can assure you, Will, that even though you look beautiful like this, your masculinity remains unaffected.«

Hannibal leaned down again; licked a flat stripe above one of his nipples, as if to prove a point. Will gasped.

»It's just that no one's ever done this to me with such... devotion,« Will admitted.

Hannibal looked like he had a lot of things to say about his former sexual partners, but chose not to.

»You deserve to be cherished, Will,« he said instead, before continuing his adoration.

The lower Hannibal dared, the quicker Will's breath came. He was thankful for the continuous pressure of Hannibal's hand in his own and tried to touch as much of the veiny skin on the back of Hannibal's hand as he could reach.

Hannibal stopped off at their scar, exploring it again and again with his tongue. Will's skin wasn't particularly sensitive on this part of his body anymore and yet he sighed under Hannibal's touch.

A tiny bit further south. Hannibal kissed his navel but stopped when he realized that Will was ticklish. He smiled widely and delighted - Will was sure he memorized that information, ready to get back to it in another, more fitting situation. Hannibal followed the path of Will's hair until he reached his boxer shorts, pressing his lips against every inch of his skin on the way. He stopped at the waistband and looked up at Will questioningly. 

Will shook his head enthusiastically and Hannibal chuckled. Will fell in love with the sound.

»Still so afraid of my mouth on you?« Hannibal asked, but he didn't wait for an answer.

Lower still and the rest of the clothes Will wore didn't really change a thing when he heard and felt how Hannibal breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of him. He felt Hannibal's warm breath on his skin through the thin fabric of his boxers. Hannibal pressed his nose closer, nudging Will's cock. It was impossible to keep from moaning when Hannibal traced the line of his erection and covered it with open-mouthed kisses. Hannibal put his tongue against the dark, wet spot Will's precum had left on his shorts and the pressure against the most delicate part of his body, no matter how slight, made Will throw back his head.

»Exquisite,« Hannibal murmured before he worked his way up his body again. An uncontrollable shiver passed through Will when Hannibal's hardness pressed against his own once more. Hannibal ended his inspection with kisses on Will's face - his forehead, his cheeks, his nose and, finally, his lips again. There was a slight hint of bitterness on his tongue.

»You're quite flushed, Will,« Hannibal said with a grin when he pulled away again in an attempt to catch his breath.

»You talk too much, you damn narcissist.« Will laughed. He felt intoxicated and light-headed and pulled Hannibal into their next kiss impatiently.

Will didn't know how but he had gathered enough self-confidence in the meantime to touch Hannibal without inhibitions. His hands roamed over Hannibal's back, explored muscles and scars and the brand again, paid back Hannibal's caresses as much as he could. His fingers danced atop the skin of the exposed part of Hannibal's hips and Hannibal moaned against Will unabashedly. 

Again he pulled away and pressed his forehead against Will's. »You never cease to amaze me,« he whispered, voice heavy with happiness.

Will would never say it, because Hannibal's ego didn't need any more massaging, but Hannibal looked amazing in this moment. His eyes sparkling with love and desire, his open lips swollen from kisses and the skin around them red from the drag of Will's beard. He looked so very human. Will caressed his face and Hannibal closed his eyes and leaned in to the tender touch. He combed through his velvet-soft, damp hair with his fingers, let it fall back into Hannibal's face time and time again. He had never felt as fond of the man as he did in this moment.

Will wondered what Hannibal saw in him right then. If Will was as beautiful for him as he was for Will.

The feeling in his chest was back and again it threatened to crush him, to tear him apart. This time, however, it was almost welcome.

»You're eating my heart, Hannibal,« Will said, barely audible. »And I'm strangely fine with it.«

Hannibal opened his eyes and looked at him for a while before he shook his head softly.

»I feel the same way,« he said.

Hannibal gave him another tender kiss. It burned Will more than the passionate ones preceding it.

»What do you want to do?« Hannibal asked.

Will tried to answer but barely made it past the first syllable. It seemed impossible to voice his desires.

He cleared his throat. »You know what I want. Don't make me say it.«

»I know what you _need_ ,« Hannibal said. »Not necessarily what you _want_.«

Will clicked his tongue. »Don't ruin the mood, Hannibal.«

Hannibal looked at him expectantly. 

»Just,« Will began before he sighed and searched for an easy way to say it. There was not enough blood in his head for such conversations, even if he knew what Hannibal wanted to hear. »Let's just do what we did last time. Only... more pleasantly for both of us.«

Hannibal made an appreciative noise before he kissed Will again. For a moment they struggled to get out of their remaining clothes without breaking the lock of their lips. And then there was Hannibal's bare skin, chest to toe, against his own. The firmness of his private parts against Will's own felt unusual, the hard press of him blatant. There was no hiding of lust among two men.

Will looked down. It was impossible _not_ to compare. Hannibal was a little superior in length, and Will had a little more girth. He thought they looked good, together, pressed against each other.

Hannibal moved - just a little bit further up, but Will, sensitized, felt the little drag in his whole body. His erection twitched in anticipation, and Hannibal's did the same out of sympathy. Hannibal followed his gaze and swallowed, wanting to make a comment but deciding against it. 

»They do seem to like each other,« Will said for him. He couldn't keep the constant, giddy smile from his face and knew how moronic he must look. 

»Yes, they do,« Hannibal murmured. He sounded just as smug as Will felt.

Their lower bodies snuggled up against each other, searching for connection in the heat between them. Hannibal, in the lead position, seemed to be in no hurry. The painful leisureliness was in sharp contrast with the surliness of their last sexual encounter. It made their endeavor all the more intimate and, therefore, more intense.

Only when they were both sweating and panting and any further delay seemed intolerable did Hannibal consider himself satisfied. He stretched out his arm to the bedside cabinet, kissed Will while he fumbled blindly in a drawer and emerged victorious a moment later, a small bottle in his hand. 

Will raised his eyebrows. »You have some here?«

An affirmative murmur while Hannibal chased his lips again.

»Did you have it here last time?« Will asked, escaping Hannibal's insatiable mouth.

»Yes,« Hannibal said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. »I stood up to give you the chance to escape.«

Will merely looked at him for a moment, letting that sink in. »I was too nervous to realize it. I mean... I wanted to run, but I thought.... I thought you left because it was embarrassing for you to do it in front of me.«

»It's not embarrassing,« Hannibal said. This time Will allowed himself to be kissed for a few seconds. »Do you want to do it?«

»Not sure I can.« Will's hands trembled like leaves against Hannibal's skin. Arousal and nervousness. He looked up at Hannibal. »Show me,« he said, trying to sound innocent.

Hannibal met his eyes with passion. He nodded and sat up, inviting Will to look at him, to watch him do it. For the first time and despite his own words, it seemed more dangerous to Will to look away from Hannibal's eyes.

Hannibal opened the bottle and spread some of the lube on his right hand. He held eye contact when he repositioned himself, when his hand reached behind him and when he started opening himself for Will. 

His expression changed only slightly and even then Will was sure that it was an active decision to let Will see it. There wasn't a trace of shame in Hannibal's dark, love-drugged eyes, only pleasure and lust and love. Will's gaze slowly wandered lower. It was hard to look and even harder to look away again. Hannibal presented himself to Will; showed him something no one else had seen before. It was a rare gift and Will wanted to honor it.

It would take some time to get used to this entirely different anatomy. Hannibal was so different from anything Will had ever coveted. And yet he found pleasure at the sight of him.

Will reached for Hannibal, feeling the need to touch him. He massaged his legs, exploring previously undiscovered skin and trying to memorize Hannibal's reactions. His inner thighs felt incredibly soft and so did his stomach, despite his muscly physique. He looked so different naked, more vulnerable, almost scrawny. Will liked how his hairy skin felt under his fingers. 

Slowly deeper, through thicker hair, with the same painful tempo Hannibal had set. He encircled Hannibal's cock loosely with his fingers, only the tinge of a touch. He stroked up and down a couple of times, examined the veiny skin, pressed his thumb against the velvety, wet tip. Hannibal's hips cocked and he let out a deep, drawn-out moan. Goosebumps formed on Will's arms.

»I love your moaning,« Will murmured before he could stop himself admitting it.

»Just the moaning?« A subtle, knowing smile graced Hannibal's lips. Will wanted to kiss it away. How gorgeous he looked, with the sweat on his forehead and the little concentrated frown.

»Every sound you make... _in bed_.« Will knew he had already said too much.

Hannibal dropped the subject, focusing again on the task at hand. Will couldn't see everything, but he felt Hannibal shift his weight from time to time.

»Does it hurt?« he asked tenderly.

Hannibal shook his head. »No. It just... pulls.«

Will continued his examination, until Hannibal deemed himself ready. He opened the bottle of lube again, and let some of it trickle onto Will. It was cold and Will hissed under his breath, but Hannibal's hand, rubbing it in, felt warm. Will closed his eyes with relish. He wanted to come so badly already and it would be so easy to let Hannibal's hand do the rest of the job.

Not today though, for Hannibal stopped all too soon. Will opened his eyes cautiously, watched as Hannibal readjusted once more. Will felt how Hannibal nudged his dick against the wet warmth between his legs. There was resistance and - when Hannibal slowly let himself sink onto Will - then there was not.

It was overwhelming. 

»You okay?« Will forced out.

Hannibal opened his eyes partially and nodded dully, unable to form words in a language that Will would understand.

And then he began to move - a slow, consistent rhythm, making the most of it, dragging it out. Will reached for his hips, reached for balance. He could feel himself falling and tried to fight it. Hannibal breathed heavily - heavier when Will needed more, tilting his pelvis a little to meet Hannibal halfway. Their hands found each other again, conjoining, supporting each other. They sighed and moaned and whimpered in unison.

Will realized what the difference was. This wasn't the egoistic hunt after his own satisfaction as it had been their first time. Not quick and fierce because he needed it so badly, because he couldn't allow himself to let go. It became so _clear_ why Hannibal was taking it so slowly this time: he didn't want Will to lose himself; he wanted him to remember, to experience this with him. And so he did. Will let himself fall and took Hannibal with him - again. They were here together, at this specific point in time and space, together in their singular connection. Will blushed when he realized that what they were doing was _making love_.

Will felt himself coming closer. Hannibal didn't pick up pace, seemingly intending to make this last as long as possible. But he felt Will's struggle, felt how impossible it was to keep on going. He started touching himself - timid, but precise, from root to tip and back again.

Will had never been interested in pornography - especially that which prominently featured male genitals - but he couldn't help but be fascinated. It looked so simple, so sensual, so _dirty_.

Will murmured his name and that was what pulled Hannibal over, for he came as if on command. His muscles contracted around Will and he made a sound - less a moan and more of a growl - and it was enough for Will to follow him.

Will's orgasm felt like drowning, as if the ocean had claimed him after all. Wave by wave dragged him down, pulled him underwater, kept him from breathing. It was a long, painful and cleansing climax. 

And then it was over. All the tension suddenly evaporated and it startled Will to find that his own cheeks were wet. 

Hannibal bowed down and Will slipped out of him involuntarily, suddenly a single person again. Suddenly not whole anymore. Hannibal lay down on him, let Will feel his body warmth and kissed his tears away. 

»Not so salty anymore,« Hannibal whispered hoarsely, before he kissed Will on the mouth, gentle and reassuring and infinitely welcome.

Will put his arms tightly around Hannibal and pulled him closer, unable to let him go now that they were touching so wholly. It took a few minutes for their breathing to calm.

»I have to go clean myself up,« Hannibal said finally. He made it sound like a question. It was an effort for Will to allow him to, to loosen his grip around him. He did not want to be alone.

Hannibal reached for a couple of tissues on the nightstand and cleaned up before the sheets were entirely ruined. He wiped Will's soft cock and smiled when Will sighed lazily at the contact.

»Stay where you are.« It sounded almost like a threat. Will had no intention of leaving. He wouldn't have been able to - no energy left, oxytocin making his body feel heavy.

Will shut his eyes when the bathroom door closed. He felt empty in a good way; like a blank page, as if the ocean had fulfilled its promise of rebirth a year too late.


	20. Chapter 20

While Hannibal was gone, Will thought about all the different scenarios in which this wouldn't have happened. Hannibal could have let him drown, could have let him sink into the sea's abysm. He could have decided to drop him off at a hospital, or just to leave him at the shore, hoping that the FBI would find him. Perhaps Hannibal hadn't been selfless enough for that. Will was grateful that he had decided to save him, to patch him up and take care of him, while no one had tended to his own wounds but himself.

But it wasn't just Hannibal. Will could have decided to leave as well, could have decided to reject the offer of companionship, as he had before. They both knew that there had been enough opportunities since they had reached dry land. But he had stayed, of his own volition, hadn't told anyone about their whereabouts - he had become Hannibal's partner.

Actually, the question of leaving had never really crossed his mind.

It had always been this, just this. Nothing else, inevitable, since the sea had thrown them up, decided for them that it wasn't yet time to go.

When Hannibal came back, he moved just as quietly as he always had, but Will was aware of him with all his senses now, keyed to him.

Still a tinge of hesitation to his behavior. It would take time, still a lot more time, until they both were sure what this was and where it was leading to, what the new limits were – if there were any left.

For the moment there weren't. Will reached for Hannibal and they came together with a kiss, eager for contact after only a few minutes of separation. Will wanted to make him understand that it was real and wanted. Hannibal hummed against his lips, happy to find that Will was still here and willing and taking the initiative.

Hannibal retrieved the blanket that had gotten lost during their lovemaking and extinguished the lamp on the nightstand. He cuddled close to Will in the darkness, half on and half next to him, and spread the blanket above them both. His head rested on Will's chest, above his heart, that beat satisfied and strong. Will embraced him again, more warm skin on warm skin, and closed his eyes. He wondered what this meant, if this would become his life now – sex with Hannibal and cuddling afterward.

While they lay in silence, he thought about how much time, how much energy and how much life they had wasted on the way to this.

»You didn't understand,« Will said after a while.

»What do you mean?« Hannibal asked.

»You didn't understand what it meant when I called you.«

Silence again. Then, »I'm afraid I didn't.«

Will took a deep breath. He had admitted it in front of Jack, but Hannibal was different. He knew he had to talk about it now, that it had to be sorted out if he was to strive for honesty.

»I wanted to run away with you,« he said. »I just wasn't ready before it was too late.«

»Will...« It sounded so _hurt_.

»She wouldn't have had to die, Hannibal.« Will felt like he was suffocating.

Will still saw her, sometimes, imagined her being with them here. His hallucinations weren't as strong as they were in Italy, before he had forgiven Hannibal. He couldn't hear her voice, but sometimes he still saw her shadow, was reminded of the life they could have had and now would never have.

Hannibal shifted and took Will's head between his hands. Will didn't see, but felt his gaze, boring deeply into his eyes.

»Your temporal lobes can supply you with all of Abigail you will ever need,« he said, and it sounded gentle.

A kiss. For a moment, Will thought about rejecting it, but he decided against it. Hurting Hannibal wouldn't make her alive again, either. It was fine to find consolation in each other. They had worked hard for it, with tears and blood.

»I'm so sorry, Will,« Hannibal murmured against his lips; told him a million things more, just from the way their lips brushed.

It had been painful to be able to understand Hannibal's actions. It was even more painful to feel how much he regretted. And the worst of all was to realize that it made something inside Will crumble – the last bit of resistance gone.

 _Your experience of Hannibal's attention is so profoundly harmful, yet so irresistible, it undermines your ability to think rationally._ Bedelia's words of truth inside his head were becoming unbearable.

A tear rolled down Will's cheek and it wasn't his own.

»Will you ever entirely forgive me?« Hannibal asked.

»Will you?«

Hannibal said nothing.

»No,« Will said for them both. »Not for Abigail, not for Beverly, not for what is still to come. And I know there are things to come.«

»And still you let me live. Still you stay.«

»I have no other choice.« _I love you too much._ »And neither have you. We're stuck with one another, like bucks locked together by their antlers. The more I try to untangle myself from you, the closer to you I get.«

»Then stop struggling against it,« Hannibal begged. »And come closer to me.«

»I don't think it's anatomically possible to come closer to you than the way I was only minutes ago,« Will said sharply. »Unless you eat me. It's going to kill me, one way or another. I'm not strong enough and you'll be the one dragging my carcass around with you until you die of exhaustion.«

»You can be as strong as you wish to be, Will,« Hannibal promised. »I never had to drag you around, nor will I ever have to.«

Will wanted to believe him. But it was still so hard to accept Hannibal's unshakable trust in him, his unlimited appreciation of Will's capabilities.

»Except for that one time you literally had to carry me home, because Mason drugged me,« Will said, coping through irony. »Or when you had to drag me through half of Florence, because Chiyoh shot me.«

»Will...«

»I get what you're saying. But I don't agree with you.«

»Let the future change your mind, then,« Hannibal suggested. »You have become so strong over the last few years already.«

~ - ~

It was impossible to find sleep.

They lay in bed quietly, Hannibal's head resting in the crook of Will's arm now, and Will thought and thought and thought. He wiggled around, trying to find a better position to find sleep in, knowing that it was probably hopeless. It didn't take long for Hannibal to react to his movements in a very physical manner.

»You're kidding, right?«

Hannibal pressed a smile into Will's skin.

»Be assured, Will, my hunger for you is quite insatiable,« he said, threatening as a sleepy lion. A cold shiver ran down Will's back. »But do not worry. I'm extremely satisfied for tonight.«

A few seconds passed.

»Will you eat me when I die?« Will forced out, as if he hadn't decided to ask that question himself.

He wondered if their conversations would ever reach any degree of normalcy, if it was possible to have society-compliant pillow talk with Hannibal.

»Yes,« Hannibal answered flatly.

It was the answer Will had expected. »Which part of me?«

»Every one, preferably.«

»To honor me, to keep me inside of you forever. Like Garret Jacob Hobbs did. Like you did, with Mischa.«

»Yes.« Her name clawed at Hannibal's composure.

»And if you don't have the time to properly prepare me?«

The picture of his death was already engraved behind his eyes. They would be found out, someone would wound him fatally and Hannibal, before getting shot or captured himself, would eat him. It seemed almost like a nice way to go.

»I'd eat a piece of your heart, if I had something to slice you open with.«

»And if you don't?«

Hannibal considered this for a moment. »An ear, perhaps.«

Hannibal stretched and kissed Will behind his left ear. Goosebumps raised on Will's arms, but at the same time he was glad to find out that Hannibal's erection hadn't survived the conversation.

»Just make sure I'm dead first,« Will requested tonelessly.

Hannibal smiled against his ear. »And if I die before you?«

»No.«

Hannibal's smile widened. He pressed a goodnight kiss onto Will's lip, before he nuzzled into his armpit again.

»Close your eyes, Will,« he said with a doctor's authority. Will obliged. »I'll be here.«

It was only a sentence, just a few words strung together. It was an insurance, a promise. Hannibal was here. He would be here. It was ridiculous, really. Will didn't need protection, especially not _by_ Hannibal. And yet the thought made him feel secure. Will _couldn't_ trust him wholly, but that didn't mean he didn't _want_ to.

It was enough to let go. It was right this way. The way it should be. Them. Here. Now.

It was enough to relax and be embraced by Hannibal's warmth, to shut off his brain and his thoughts and to focus on Hannibal's steady breathing - on the inimitable noise he made while doing it, a sign that he was alive, that he needed air like any other human being.

It was enough to finally allow himself to fall asleep, contented.

~ - ~

Hannibal woke him from his nightmares twice that night.

Will didn't say anything the first time, just closed his eyes again quickly and tried to go back to sleep, lest the burden of thought crushed him again. It worked.

He felt disappointed, the second time. He breathed heavily. Hannibal had woken him before his cold sweat had broken, but it still felt demeaning.

He let Hannibal soothe him with his calm breath and his circling touches on Will's hip until he was sure his legs could carry him.

Hannibal let him go without a word.

He found himself in Hannibal's bathroom, splashing his face with cold water, trying to cool his overworked brain. He was unsure if he would recognize himself if he looked into the mirror and avoided doing so.

»Listen, I... I could go back to my own bed,« Will said, once he was back with Hannibal, standing indecisively in front of the bed. The thought of leaving pained him. »I know I'm not... It's not really a pleasure to sleep next to me.«

»It's fine,« Hannibal murmured. He sounded tired. »Come back to bed.«

»I don't want to wake you every thirty minutes.«

»I haven't slept yet.«

Will laid down in the warm pit of the bed, turned away from Hannibal in sudden shame. Hannibal pressed close to his back, curling in. Will would have to get used to this first. To this new and yet so familiar entity next to him.

»I promise you, Will, the next time you wake up sweating and hyperventilating... it won't be because of your nightmares.« It was a promise, no matter how sleepy he sounded. »Go back to sleep.«

Another cold shiver, not only fear, but excitement too. Will laughed.

»Yeah, okay. Okay.«


	21. Chapter 21

Will woke from tender kisses on his trapezius muscle and gentle touches over the fine scar his temporary stoma had left on his stomach. His first action of the day was to sigh contentedly.

An almost unbearably warm body lay against his back. Will felt a sleepy form of arousal. And then he remembered, realized who he was with. It did not reduce his happiness.

Will linked his fingers with Hannibal's, squeezed his hand.

»Good morning, Will,« Hannibal purred against his neck, pressing closer. Will could feel the contours of his naked body against him. Suddenly, he understood.

»You prefer to sleep in the nude. But you wore pajamas when I came in,« he croaked instead of a greeting.

»I hoped you'd pay me a visit,« Hannibal admitted and placed a lingering kiss behind Will's ear.

»Fuck you, Hannibal.« Will laughed and leaned backwards into Hannibal's warmth before closing his eyes again.

Hannibal hummed. »I think the term 'Been there, done that' would be appropriate in this situation.«

Will dragged their conjoined hands over his body, teasing himself and Hannibal with them. He felt something twitch against his bottom. Hannibal's breathing changed, if only subtly.

»Might want to revisit that,« Will murmured, eyebrows raised, before he turned around.

Hannibal looked absolutely besotted. Will met his gaze and felt himself getting trapped in it. His eyes were warm, like dark honey, which he had stumbled into, which had glued together his wings and which he couldn't escape from. But Hannibal showed mercy over his powerlessness. He smiled, blinked, let Will go and kissed him.

Will enjoyed the soft contact of their lips and the rough grinding of their stubble, but he imposed a condition when they parted, »No kissing before we've both brushed our teeth.«

A big hand was laid onto the small of Will's back, pulling him closer. Another sigh slipped from Will's mouth.

»Fine,« Hannibal said, kissing Will's chin instead, his throat and then his right clavicle. It felt raspy and made Will giddy.

Will laid one hand on Hannibal's upper arm, felt his hard biceps. He swung one leg over Hannibal and shoved him forward, further lessening the distance between them.

»Are you always so eager in the morning?« Hannibal asked, amused.

»You're right,« Will said and stopped abruptly. »I should go downstairs and check up on the dogs.«

Hannibal's arm around him instantly became an iron prison. Will had to grin at that. For the entirety of the last year, it had been an approach-avoidance conflict to be touched by Hannibal. Now it was simply pleasant.

»We have a big, fenced yard and a dog door. I think they'll manage a while longer.«

»You think?« Will asked, but did not give Hannibal the time to answer. He pushed Hannibal's shoulders down into the mattress and sat astride him. Hannibal made no move to fight back. It was glorious, Will thought. To know what kinds of powers lay hidden inside of Hannibal's body and yet to have him so pliant beneath him, so docile.

Will felt the heat between them, their shared, playful lust. He rolled his hips back and forth and watched Hannibal close his eyes for a moment, heard his first, blissful moan. Will licked his lips. This wasn't the serious exploration of their relationship, like it had been last night. There weren't a thousand unsaid words. This was just insubstantial satisfaction of need. Will was glad to find that not everything between them needed to be filled with profound meaning.

Until Hannibal opened his mouth.

»You're so beautiful when you unabashedly take what you want, Will,« he said, gaze directed at Will as if there wasn't anything else in the world worth looking at.

Will looked down. Hannibal seemed different in natural light, more real somehow. His tousled hair and the first signs of his graying beard made him look relaxed. Will felt the need to touch him; reached for him with both his hands to strike up and down over his torso. It was odd and wonderful. Undeniably masculine. Will fell in love with the hairy, soft skin on Hannibal's tummy, with the bumpiness of the bullet wound scar, with every small mole he saw and touched.

»Don't you want it, too?« Will asked.

»I'll gladly take everything you wish to give me.«

Will shook his head softly. »That doesn't really answer my question.«

»I want it. Very much.« Their gazes met and held. »How does that make you feel?«

»In control.«

»Good. Remember that.« Hannibal's fingertips touched his hips, light as a feather, and Hannibal smiled when Will flinched at it. »You will always be in control with me. Right up until the moment when you don't want to be anymore.«

»Why wouldn't I want to be?«

Hannibal continued to smile. »Because in love you take leave of your senses, Will.«

»You are the one taking leave of your senses.« Will absentmindedly picked at a few hairs on Hannibal's stomach. »You became... someone different, Hannibal.«

»Pardon me?«

»Weren't you the one who said that getting exactly what you wanted was a dangerous thing? You are not the man taunting me behind a layer of glass anymore.«

Hannibal traced Will's inguinal ligaments with his thumb and stopped on his femoral artery. »No reason to taunt you now.«

»You lost your bite. Under my touch you are mild as a dove. And that is...« Will shifted above Hannibal once more. »...strangely arousing.«

Will wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating Hannibal. At no point would he think he had tamed him. Hannibal wasn't one of his dogs and every attempt to instill better behavior into him would fail. Hannibal acted of his own will, like a cat, and he would strip his current pattern off if it didn't suit him anymore.

Right now, he looked happy with it. He gave no answer, but he still smiled, clearly enjoying how Will straddled him.

Once Will had started moving on top of Hannibal, it was hard to stop again. Skin ground against skin and it reminded Will of what he had wanted to do instead of conversing.

Will silently asked for permission. Hannibal looked at him curiously.

»Enough talking for now?« he asked.

Will made an approving noise. He leaned forward, pressing their bodies almost entirely together. He kissed Hannibal's jaw, breathed in deeply, taking in his scent, and put his head into the crook of his neck.

With closed eyes, he took in how Hannibal's body felt beneath him. His flat chest didn't give under his weight; he wasn't smooth and soft and Will encountered a solid back-pressure between his thighs when he moved. Their pubic hair rasped against each other with an almost filthy sound. Sex had never felt so right.

Hannibal's hands danced on his back and traced his spine. Will felt relaxed, sighed, and moved his hips more firmly. Hannibal met him with his pelvis, rose up and pressed Will's sacral bone down with a hand to establish even more contact.

Will clawed at Hannibal's shoulder. He kissed his throat, sucked on his skin and knew that hickeys would form. He murmured Hannibal's name and enjoyed the sound of his breathing in return, accelerating.

Will's movements got quicker and quicker, searching for more friction. Heat and prickling lust banished every other feeling from his body. Sweat developed on his skin and he felt Hannibal's hand on his wet back. They crashed against each other, again and again and again, until it wasn't enough anymore. Will sat up and took their cocks in hand. They had both turned dark red, Hannibal's a bit more purple. It felt good to press them against each other, to rub the gleaming tips together. Will lowered his lids in fevered delight, attempted to wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and failed. Their natural lubrication made the glide of his hand easy and fast. Will threw his head back and moaned.

The sweat on his torso cooled from the air. It made him shiver. He was grateful for Hannibal's warm hands, roaming his slippery body unashamedly, for his breathless growls and snarls, that warmed Will's heart and loins.

Will pushed his hips forward, into his own hand, against Hannibal's hot erection. He felt every single vein.

»You should, ah, you should get yourself pierced down there,« Will said before he could stop himself. »Would feel amazing, probably.«

He didn't meet Hannibal's eyes, but he was sure that if he did, he would see a rare moment of actual surprise in them.

Will cursed himself and his sex-loosened mouth. He continued his strokes, quickening, as if he could undo his words. The heat between their legs was unsustainable. It wouldn't take long now.

»Or you could wear your ring,« Hannibal said a few seconds later. »That would create similar stimulation.«

»Wrong hand,« Will hissed, wishing he had never begun speaking.

»It's customary in Germany to wear the wedding ring on the right hand.«

Will looked up. Hannibal's expression was too serious.

»I think you'd be more... ah, comfortable wearing it than I am« Will pressed out. His approaching orgasm ripped truths from him. It would be a handy interrogation technique.

He felt foreign fingers on his own, shoving him away gently. He gasped when Hannibal's hand closed around his cock. Slow, tight movements that made him feel more of Hannibal's skin, pressing Will's sensitive frenulum against Hannibal's shaft. Will bucked his hips uncontrollably and his upper body fell forward. He had to support himself with his elbows to give Hannibal enough room between them to continue. His moaning became a whimper, seeking release.

»Would you allow me to wear it, Will?« Hannibal murmured into his ear. It sounded strained – it wouldn't take long for him either.

Will gritted his teeth, tried to find the last bit of rational thought in his brain. »In bed or in general?«

»Would you allow me... to show the world to whom I belong?« So much emotion in his voice.

It was this thickness of feelings and one precise movement of Hannibal's hand that pushed Will over the edge. He cursed in a harsh voice, his intestines shrinking, and then the built-up tension unloaded all at once, ecstatic. He pressed his lids together tightly and withstood the waves of the almost painful release, of the little death.

He pulled Hannibal with him once more. He felt Hannibal's cock twitch beneath his own, felt his orgasm pulsing through his body. The hand that didn't trap their erections together clawed at Will's thigh, but Will liked the grounding pain that came with it, arched against it.

And then they were back in the Here and Now. Hannibal's chest beneath him raised and lowered irregularly and Will became aware of the warm, sticky substance gluing them together. He rolled off, trying to calm his own breathing.

Hannibal looked down at himself, at the white fluid that stuck to his stomach and chest. He raised his right hand, Will's and his own semen mingling on it, brought it to his mouth and tasted. Will could hear his closed mouth move as though he savored wine. Then a swallow. Hannibal closed his eyes and breathed out, satisfied.

Will breathed in, satisfied.

The air smelled like sex and sweat and their morning breath.

»You are... in such need of reconfirmation, aren't you?« he asked calmly.

Hannibal looked at him without answering.

Will supported his head on his hand and looked down at Hannibal, examined his features.

»You've tried to foster codependency. We played this game for years. But you've run out of aces, because all the cards are on the table now,« Will noticed. »And now you are afraid. Because all you have left are your attempts to make me happy. All you have left to give is... yourself. And you don't know if that's enough to keep me satisfied enough to stay alive and by your side.«

Hannibal's face crumbled. Just slightly, but enough. »Am I enough, Will?«

His voice was barely more than a whisper. He looked more vulnerable, more human than ever.

Will rolled back on top of him, ignored Hannibal's disapproving sound, ignored the wetness on his stomach, listened only to the sudden, strong feeling in his heart, that filled him and tore him apart at the same time, only wanting to be close to Hannibal.

»I'm here, Hannibal. I stayed.«

He kissed Hannibal, mouth closed, and rubbed his nose affectionately over his face.

»I'll stay,« Will said. »You have me.«

Will nibbled on Hannibal's ear lobe. He put a thumb beneath Hannibal's eye and caught the tears before they escaped completely.

»Do you think we'll ever manage to have sex without tears?« he asked softly.

He wasn't surprised to receive no reply.

~ - ~

Will stayed on top of Hannibal for a while, enjoying this beginning of something new together with him. Hannibal didn't seem to be bothered by the prospect of having to change the sheets later. Will laid his head on an unstained spot of Hannibal's chest, let his hair tickle his nose. Hannibal hugged him close, ran his fingers over Will's now dried back. The first rays of sunshine shone into the room, warming Will's skin.

»You can't tell me that I'm the first man you've had sex with,« Will said when he felt ready to talk again.

»I've had sex with men before,« Hannibal admitted. »But you were the first to penetrate me.«

Penetrate. The word sounded so wrong, so like Hannibal. Will smiled. »Well, you rode me like a pro yesterday.«

Will thought back to their first time – how rough he had been with Hannibal. »Did you... enjoy yourself?«

»I did, yesterday, yes.«

Will placed a kiss on Hannibal's sternum. »Sorry for causing you pain.«

»You are remarkable, Will. You enjoy killing so much and yet causing other people pointless harm is sickening to you. You know I have a high tolerance for pain. Perhaps even some enjoyment of it, when you are the one inflicting it.«

»You would have died by my hands just to prove your point.« Will buried his face deeper into Hannibal's chest. Hannibal continued his fondling.

»Would you... like to try something like that, too? Eventually?«

»Dying by your hands to prove a point?« Will asked, having lost the thread of conversation already.

»Being penetrated by me.«

Hannibal's word made his intestines clench for the second time that day. »You have a dirty mouth, Dr. Lecter,« he said, leering.

He thought about it for a moment. He wasn't afraid that it could be unpleasant or painful. But being so ruthlessly open in front of Hannibal, showing his vulnerability in such a way, was an act of faith he wasn't ready for yet and perhaps never would be.

»I don't know. Someday, maybe,« Will said. »Would you prefer it the other way around?«

»I'm more than happy to build on what you are willing to give me now. And most importantly, I want you to feel at ease. I don't want to force you into anything you won't enjoy.... in your current state. That would be counterproductive.«

»Like killing?« Will asked.

»Yes, like killing.«

»Why are you always so sure about what I would enjoy?«

Hannibal smiled mildly. »Because we are just alike.«

~ - ~

They stood under the shower when Will asked the question that occupied his thoughts the most. »When did you.. you know. Fall in love with me?«

»Do you mean 'When did I fall in love with you' or 'When did I realize that I was in love with you?'« Hannibal asked, rubbing expensive body wash into Will's shoulders.

»Tell me both,« Will decided after a moment's hesitation.

Hannibal's movements on his back stopped for a short moment while he thought. »I fell in love with you... gradually. It started before I even met you. When Jack came to me and told me about this brilliant but troubled FBI agent he had, your uniquely imaginative mind... I was fascinated. I wanted to meet you. And when we met, in Jack's office, I was surprised at your... pulchritude.«

He had chosen the word with care, but it still made Will feel embarrassed.

Hannibal kissed his neck. »I saw that extraordinary young man with those deep, intelligent eyes that looked everywhere but at me, and I felt the first tingle of an emotion I couldn't name, because I had never felt it before. And then you opened that quick and clever mouth of yours and I was... intrigued. I quickly felt a bond developing between us that I wouldn't have thought possible for me to have.«

Hannibal's hands wandered lower, spreading scented lotion onto Will's still sensitive skin.

»I identified the feeling as love in the same way you did – with the help of Dr. Du Maurier.«

»It wasn't so much identifying as getting reassured,« Will said. »I knew you had feelings for me. The valentine you left me was quite unmistakable. But I doubted. I keep on hearing Bedelia's voice in my head. She was right about a lot of things. We should send her a card to express our gratitude sometime.«

Will felt Hannibal's smile against him and his hands, wandering further south still. Insatiable. »Perhaps we will pay her a visit one day.«

»Not anytime soon,« Will determined and reclined back into Hannibal's embrace.

One of Hannibal's hands moved up, stretching Will's throat backwards. It was still dangerous – a gesture with which Hannibal would be able to kill him in seconds.

He used it to kiss him instead.

»No. Not so very soon,« he said against his lips.

~ - ~

Will sat at the small table in the kitchen, the one they used for breakfast only. He had their tablet in hand, scrolled over the screen aimlessly and drank a sip of coffee from time to time. Mostly however, his eyes were glued to Hannibal, who prepared breakfast, and to the muscles in his back, which Will could see particularly well from his current position. There were barely any thoughts in his head revolving around anything other than last night or this morning.

He scratched Angelo, who sat beside him on the marble floor, behind the ears, before he tried focusing on tattle-crime.com and Freddie's newest theories about the whereabouts of the 'Murder Husbands' again. Hannibal was a bad influence on his internet activities.

Then he heard some clattering.

Next to him, Angelo whined.

Will looked up yet again, this time to see what had happened. He frowned – Hannibal had never let something drop before.

Will knew when he saw what Hannibal had shattered.

A teacup.

For a moment they both stared at the fragments, before Will's gaze moved back to the tablet.

»How do you feel about that?« he asked, taking another sip of coffee.

Hannibal's answer came later, after he had cleaned up carefully. Will smiled. Hannibal wouldn't admit it, but he was worried that one of the dogs may step onto the shards.

»I'm content to watch it not come together again.«

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I hope you enjoyed it! There may be a sequel one day, but I've been promising that to my German readers for almost a year now and... who knows what'll happen at this point. If you scream very loudly for it, chances are good, I guess?
> 
> For the last time, I have to thank my brilliant beta [ fragile-teacup ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/), for being so very awesome. This probably would have taken a lot longer to finish without her - and it wouldn't have been half as good. Thank you so much, dear friend. I hope I can repay you someday. : ) 
> 
> Come visit me on my [ tumblr ](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Illustration for Irrepressible](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461864) by [TheSeaVoices](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeaVoices/pseuds/TheSeaVoices)




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